


Crash

by blue_sweater



Series: Spideypool [1]
Category: Amazing Spider-Man (2012), Marvel, X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)
Genre: College, Lots of plot, M/M, Spideypool - Freeform, hopefully with more sex, sequel to follow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_sweater/pseuds/blue_sweater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter decides to take some time away from being a vigilante hero and get a college degree. Wade has quit the merc business but can't get a job, so goes to college, too. Neither of them have any idea who the other is - that might be problematic, seeing as they're already falling for each other.<br/>(Kind of college AU, kind of still supers. Trust me on this one.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey this is my first ao3 work! Thanks very much for reading :) The song used is by Crash by You Me At Six from their album Sinners Never Sleep.
> 
> update: I'm still writing this... ugh. it's taken me ages. but for those who are just starting, the good news is you don't have to wait for my updates. shoutout to everyone who has <3

_Wait, where you say you've been? Who you been with?_  
 _Where you say you're going? Who you going with?_  
 _Keep me on my toes, keep me in the know_  


Going to college was something Peter had always wanted to do. He had been so sure that he would finish high school and go to college and get a job. Being a superhero hadn’t always been in the books, but when he asked his parents about the dilemma he faced – either going to college, or continuing with his super hero antics – the choice was clear. Both Tony and Steve said they would rather he take a break from Spider-Man and go to college.

Tony had taught his son a lot about engineering and computer sciences, but there was only so much education a man can give his son. Steve thought it was a great idea, and he said that even if Peter didn’t enjoy college, he could come back home and work for Stark Industries.

That would be a lot easier, but Peter wanted to have a degree under his belt. He didn’t want to be a slack kid who only got a job because one of his dads was an engineering genius and billionaire. He wanted to be recognised because of his own brains and hard work.

Arriving at Yale was a strange experience. Peter wasn’t the most socially adjusted kid, and this was insane. He thought high school had been crowded. Elm Street was swimming with students, and he could barely find where he was supposed to go. Steve and Tony weren’t there, though they had both wanted to be. Tony had a very important conference to go to, and Steve was always on call.

To be honest, Peter had sort of wanted them there. And he knew that if he asked, they would both ditch their jobs and their conferences and their other commitments and be by his side in an instant. But apart from not wanting to be a burden on their professional lives, Peter knew that he would get far too much attention on his first day at Yale by having Captain America and Iron Man walking him to his room.

He looked as normal as he could be, wearing a navy blue hoodie and black jeans, his favourite basketball shoes. Nudging his glasses back up his nose, he searched for the street he had to go down. Peter wandered down the street, apologising as he bumped past people, his heavy luggage bag dragging on the ground and his backpack hanging low on his back. It would be so much easier if he could skate through everybody, but his board was packed away in his bag.

Finding the old campus was easy enough, and even finding Welch Hall was simple enough – trying to get through the swarm of people to get his keys and find his room was torture. Peter wanted to jump to the ceiling and fly over everybody but he had promised himself that he was on Spider-Hiatus. He could practice tricks in his room, by himself – but no showing off, at all, ever. He was plain old Peter Parker, boring college student.

He was on the second floor, in his own room. It was small, with a bed, desk and wardrobe, but it was nice. He dropped his bags onto the bed and wandered to the window, staring out at the street, at the green across the road – it wasn’t bad. He could get used to this.

Peter had brought the basics – a lot of books, speakers, iPod and Mac. He had almost all of his clothes – the ones he wore, anyway – and shoes, but most of the space was taken by his books. He had a bag with his deodorant, laundry powder, tooth brush and toothpaste.

He got to work setting everything up. He knew he would probably change it all around at some stage, figure out the best layout, but for now his books were piled beside the desk and his computer was plugged in, his speakers set up on the window sill and his iPod in the drawer with his notepads and stationery. His skateboard was resting against the wardrobe.

He was about to put some music on and start putting his clothes away when his phone began to ring. It was Steve. Answering the call, Peter said, “Oh hey Pop. Figured out how to use the smartphone?”

“Jarvis helped,” Steve replied, a little sheepishly. “How are you going?”

Smiling at his technologically handicapped father, Peter said, “Oh yeah, it’s okay. It’s – uh – crowded.”

“You’ll get used to it,” said Steve, knowing his son’s dislike of large crowds. “Have you got your room yet?”

“Yeah, I just got here. It’s alright. I might send you a picture once it’s set up.”

“Is there anything you need? Anything we can send over?”

“Not that I can think of,” said Peter. He probably needed some shelves for his books, but he could get those in town somewhere. They kept a steady flow of money into his bank account. He wouldn’t have to get a job, which suited him just fine. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m alright,” Steve replied. “I think I’ll be a bit lonely tonight.”

“Maybe somebody will try to rob a bank, that’ll keep you busy,” said Peter jokingly, but he felt sad for his dad. Steve always came home to Tony or to Peter, he was hardly ever by himself. Now he’d be spending more time alone.

“I sure hope so,” said Steve. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and to say that I already miss you and love you and I’m very proud of you, don’t do drugs and try not to drink too much and reveal your secret identity.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks. I love you too. And I miss you.”

“We’ll visit sometime, when it’s quiet.”

“I’d like that.”

“Alright, son. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Bye, Pop.”

Peter put his phone back into his pocket when there was a knock at the door, and he frowned, not sure who it was. He would probably have to install some sort of mechanical lock as well as the designated key. He wasn’t very good at being secure.

He opened the door and found himself looking at a tall guy with light brown hair. The first thought Peter had was that he was rather good looking – he had sharp brown eyes and a half-smile on his face as he held out his hand and said, “Hey, I’m your next door neighbour. Name’s Wade.”

“Oh, right,” said Peter, taking his hand. “Peter.”

“Nice one,” said Wade. He had a strong grip, Peter noticed, and his eyes followed the arm back to the shoulder. He was broad. Looked like somebody who worked out. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt and jeans.

“Where you from, Peter?” he asked.

“New York,” he replied, scratching at the back of his neck a little nervously. Making friends wasn’t Peter’s strong point. “What about you?”

“Vancouver, originally,” Wade replied.

“Cool,” said Peter, not knowing what else to say.

Wade nodded. “Cool indeed. So, when you’re done unpacking or spanking the monkey or whatever it is you do, we’ll go get something to eat, alright?”

When Peter frowned, a little taken aback by the offer (and a little unsure of what monkey spanking entailed). Wade said, “What, can’t a guy try to make friends around here?”

“No, yeah, I mean – of course, I was just a little – surprised,” Peter said, stammering. “I’m not – not used to people being so nice to me.”

“Aw, come on, buddy,” said Wade, patting Peter on the shoulder. “You’re surrounded by nerds and over-achievers now. You’ll fit right in.”

Peter smiled a little. “Uh – thanks,” he said. “I’ll probably be over in an hour.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” said Wade. “See you then!”

Peter raised his eyebrows, still a little taken aback by his fast-talking next door neighbour, and he shook his head and shut the door. He googled spanking the monkey. He hoped that Wade wasn’t being serious.

 

Wade was at college for lack of something better to do. He had thrown in the towel with the mercenary business and being a super hero simply wasn’t any fun. The restorative surgery had repaired the tissue damage to most of his skin – scars from flesh wounds not included – but had caused his healing ability to drop to a very low level. He was no longer able to lop of limbs or his head without serious damage – though he had tested out with a finger, and found that over 24 hours it had healed. A finger usually would have taken half an hour.

So, for his own health and safety, Wade had left the merc business behind and had decided to find a job somewhere else. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much out there for ex-mercs that wasn’t government related.

Begrudgingly, he had taken a college application test and applied to study computer science and also a minor in French, because who doesn’t need another language under their belt? Apart from the fact he already knew German and Japanese and number of other languages fluently, he’d never actually been in France for long enough to bother learning the language, and back when he was in school, he used to goof around so much he didn’t learn any French anyway.

He was looking forward to college – at least, the party side of things. It was something he’d never been able to do, and something he felt he was obliged to do. Beautiful young boys and girls all around, lots of parties and drinking and sex. His chief weapons were his good looks and his charisma, and he was planning on having an amazing time.

Wade was quite certainly bisexual. He was a marvellous specimen and had decided years ago that restricting himself to one half of the population was cruel. Besides, he liked boys. Not all boys, mind. He liked cute boys who were easy to hang out with. He liked girls, too, and girlfriends were easier to find (because, to Wade’s disappointment, he couldn’t convince every cute boy to get their gay on) but every now and then he found himself a boyfriend.

The kid next door, Peter – Wade had seen him wandering down the hall, nervously running a hand through the mop of dark brown hair, heavy eyebrows frowning a little as he tried to find his room. He wasn’t small, he was slim and wiry and looked a little bit like a lost puppy with his big brown eyes and cute face. Wade really wanted to just ask him out on a date, but he knew that prepositioning nervous young boys without first confirming their sexuality could sometimes end badly. So he would take it slow.

For now, at least.

 

When Peter finished putting his clothes away, he grabbed his wallet, phone and key and knocked on Wade’s door. Wade called out, “Entry is granted.”

Slowly opening the door, just in case Wade was unclothed or ‘monkey spanking’ – Peter hoped he wasn’t – he peered inside, and saw Wade reclined on the bed, flicking through the small booklet they had been given.

Wade’s room was a bit strange – he’d shoved the bedside table to the corner of the room to put his television on it, and there was Playstation on the floor, wires all in a mess beside it. A mini fridge was beside the wardrobe, and Wade had already put up Kill Bill and Star Wars: The Phantom Menace posters onto his wall.

“Do you know that Davenport college has a gnome for the mascot?” Wade asked casually.

“Uh, yeah, I did,” said Peter, opening the door a little further. “I’m in Davenport, actually.”

“Me too,” said Wade. “Though the gnome is making me regret my decision.” He threw the booklet across the room and he swung himself off the bed. “Alright, wanna go get some food?”

“Yeah,” replied Peter. He stepped back out to the hallway as Wade exited, and they wandered downstairs.

“So, Peter. What’s your area of study?” asked Wade.

Peter, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, said, “I’m doing biomedical engineering.”

Wade blinked. “I’m gonna pretend to know what that is.”

His blunt humour made Peter chuckle. “What about you?”

“Well, I thought about doing gender studies, but you know, they might not like me that much, because I am a bit of a dickhead sometimes. Then I thought, maybe I’ll be a dentist, but apparently a lot of dentists kill themselves, so you know, maybe not such a good idea,” said Wade, and Peter was again startled by how fast the man talked. “So I settled for computer science, and you know, if I don’t like that I’ll just do the old switcheroo.”

Pausing, just in case he hadn’t finished, Peter said, “Cool. Okay.”

Wade smiled. “You don’t talk much, do you kid?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t usually have that much to say.”

“Well, that’s okay,” said Wade, opening the door to the street. “I can talk enough for the both of us.”

Peter was pretty sure he could. The guy had said more to Peter in ten minutes than Peter had said through all of high school. He was ridiculous.

Trying to keep his nervousness at bay, Peter asked, “Do you know any good places to eat?”

“I saw a Starbucks before, but maybe something more substantial. I’m starving. Also, do you wanna hit up a convenience store or something? I need some food to put in my room.”

The two wandered around the campus until they found a burger bar, which was packed with fresh students and some older students, back with their old friends. Peter felt a little isolated – a lot of freshmen had friends from high school or summer school, and the only friend of Peter’s who had gotten into an Ivy League university was Gwen, and she was at Brown.

Wade found them a booth at the back of the restaurant, and the girl who waited for them had blue hair. They placed their orders pretty quickly, Peter choosing a classic burger and fries and Wade asked the girl for her opinion. She recommended the sweet chilli burger so Wade got that.

Wade leaned out of the booth to watch her as she walked away, before settling back into his seat. “She’s cute,” said Wade, grinning. “Reckon you could go with a blue haired girl?”

Peter shifted uncomfortably. “Well, my last girlfriend was blonde, but – I don’t know. I’m not really looking for a girlfriend.”

That was honest. Peter really didn’t want to get a girlfriend. He’d have to either have to ditch her for the summer, or explain who his dads were, perhaps even who he was – it was too hard. He didn’t have the time to worry about that.

“Aw, come on, man,” said Wade. “This place is full of energetic, beautiful young people. There are plenty of fish in the sea, my friend, and this place is the Pacific.”

Peter laughed. “I dunno. It’s too much effort.”

“I hear you, man,” said Wade. “Girls. Too much work. Boys, on the other hand, are easier.”

Peter blinked. “Boys?”

“You know, boyfriends. So much easier to hang out with. They don’t need fancy dinners or presents, they just need video games and beer and microwaved food.”

Wade looked totally serious, and Peter didn’t want to ask if he was joking or not. Instead, he asked, “So you’re gay?” He immediately regretted opening his mouth at all, but Wade didn’t seem bothered.

“I am the alpha and the omega. The north and south. The hetero and the homo,” said Wade, grinning. “I don’t like to restrict myself.”

Peter nodded. “Okay.”

“And yourself, my fine fellow? Are you gay, straight, bi, transsexual? Does my overt sexuality offend you?”

Peter didn’t feel entirely okay talking about his sexual preferences with a guy he barely knew, so he dodged the first question. “No, it doesn’t offend me. I’ve got two dads, so I’m fine with everything, really.”

Wade’s eyebrows went up. “Oh awesome, gay dads. That must be good fun. Is your life like Queer Eye or what?”

Peter laughed. Tony would have found that funny, but Steve would have no idea what that was. “Uh, not really. They’re pretty relaxed. Dad’s a, uh – mechanic, and Pop is a soldier. They aren't that fashionable. And our house is boring, all white walls.”

Wade smiled. “That’s cool. I’d like to meet them. They sound cool.”

You have no idea, Peter thought. He didn’t say anything, simply nodding, and then their meal arrived, and they went on to talk about things that weren’t sexuality, to Peter’s relief. It wasn’t that he was strictly straight – he just applied the same rule with girlfriends to boyfriends. Wade seemed nice, but Peter wasn’t going to go out with him, just to ditch him over the summer. It wasn’t fair.

And besides, apart from the rest, Peter was a virgin when it came to gay sex. He’d been with Gwen a few times, but that had fallen to pieces. It was too hard having a girlfriend and being Spider-Man at the same time. It was too dangerous.

He’d have to go with another superhero, like his dads, if he was going to have a girlfriend or boyfriend at all. And there weren’t that many his age. It was simply out of the question.

 

“Hey, Peter! Look! They have Apple Jacks!”

Wade was running around the 24-hour convenience store, throwing all manner of things into his basket – cinnamon scrolls, chocolate milk, cereal, noodles, pineapple juice, muesli bars and Reese’s kisses. Peter was going for the basics – Pringles and chewing gum, mainly, but he found some gummy bears too, and he got some apples. He liked apples. He wasn’t going to get any drinks but Wade told him he could use his fridge, so Peter had put orange juice into his basket as well. 

Wade’s basket was overflowing. “How much do you eat?” Peter asked.

“I am a growing boy,” said Wade defiantly, hand on hip. “I need nutrients.”

“If you say so,” said Peter, reaching for a packet of Oreos. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty two,” said Wade. Peter was a little surprised.

“Wow, you’re old,” he said, smiling. 

“Don’t I just radiate maturity?” Wade replied sarcastically. “What, how old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Peter replied.

“Wow, you’re barely legal.”

“Thanks.”

The banter they had going back and forth was nice. Peter hadn’t ever been able to talk with anybody this easily unless he was related to them – the last person he’d spoken with this much was Gwen. It was nice to have made a friend so quickly, and it was important that Peter had made nice with the guy he was going to be living next to, and being able to use his fridge was a bonus.

He also had a Playstation and television so that was good news. Peter usually played games or watched DVDs on his computer, but having a friend with a television was handy.

They went to the counter and paid for their things, before making their way back to the campus, which was a few blocks away. They looked around for eating spots – the pizza restaurant, a Mexican place, Wade pointed out the bar on the corner block but Peter reminded him that he wasn’t 21 just yet.

“Like that’ll stop you,” said Wade, and when Peter shrugged Wade said, “Aw, come on. A bit of underage drinking never hurt anybody.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, and Wade sighed. “Okay, it hurt some kids, but you’ll have me! I’ll look after you! And I’ll buy you the alcohol!”

“You’re a good friend.”

“I know, I know,” said Wade, flattered. “What about drugs?”

“I don’t take drugs,” said Peter. He had tried weed once at a party, and even a tablet once or twice, but they simply didn’t have any effect on him. Something to do with his Spidey-biology. They just tasted funny. “They don’t have much of an effect on me.”

“That’s cool,” said Wade. “I don’t do drugs that often, I think I’m the same as you. It’s really hard to get me high. Some guy tried to roofie me once and that didn’t work. He was quite disappointed.”

They made their way back to their rooms and put the food away, Peter putting his in the bottom drawer of his desk and his juice in the fridge. 

“So, feel free to bust in here whenever you like. Maybe we can build a plank between our windows so we don’t need to share keys.”

Peter was pretty sure he could get to Wade’s window without a plank, but he shrugged off the idea and said they’d just hang out whenever. Wade seemed pretty content with that. He looked a little disappointed when Peter said he would call it a night, but he was really exhausted and needed to sleep.

Classes didn’t start til Monday, so Peter said they could see each other in the morning, and Wade agreed to that. He offered to walk Peter to the door, which Peter said wasn’t necessary, and they said goodnight.

When Peter got back to this room, he checked his phone and saw a text message from Tony, which said,

> Hey Pete, hope everything’s going well. Missing you lots already, I really hate conferences. Stay safe and don’t get anybody pregnant. – dad 

Peter laughed at his dad’s dry humour, and immediately texted back.

> Hi dad, everything is ok. Already making friends. Missing you too, hope I can see you and Pop soon. Fly safe. Don’t get anybody pregnant. –pete

Smiling at his own dry humour, Peter changed into his flannel pyjama bottoms, and he decided to do stretch before going to bed. He jumped up, reaching the ceiling easily, and stuck to the roof, before he put his feet on the ceiling too and then hung upside down. It was very therapeutic – he could crack his back and stretch out his legs, arms dangling to the floor.

He let himself drop down after a minute or so, and then got into bed, settling down and falling asleep within minutes. He wasn’t kidding when he said that he was exhausted.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wait, keep me in your skin, keep me in your chest_  
 _I'll wait for it to start, I'll wait for it to end_  
 _Keep me on my toes, keep me in the know_

Peter was woken not by the sunlight drifting through his window, or the noise and clatter of college students getting their things ready in the morning, or even his alarm. It was the music playing next door. Radiohead wasn’t one of Peter’s favourites, but he liked it better when it wasn’t reverberating through the wall. He buried his face into his pillow and muted the sound, groaning. He was tired. He wanted to sleep.

Wade had other ideas. He knocked on Peter’s door who murmured a response, and the door was open so Wade entered. “Come on, Petey! It is a beautiful summer day and you are wasting it.”

“It’s not even eight yet,” replied Peter, voice muffled by the pillow.

Wade’s response was to tear Peter’s sheets away, revealing the scruffy haired teen in his half-naked sleepy glory. “Let’s go, beautiful!” Wade shouted. “You need to biomedically engineer things and I have to compute!”

Peter lifted his head to glare at his friend, before falling back to the bed.

It had been nearly a month since they had started college, and the two were good friends now. Well, good friends in that Peter didn’t mind Wade’s company. Occasionally, he was a bit too much. He was very energetic and enthusiastic about everything in a way that Peter wasn’t, and sometimes when he just wanted to study, Wade wouldn’t leave him alone. But he was a good guy and he was entertaining – he did some crazy shit, for no apparent reason. He’d take any bet, do any dare. It was hilarious.

“Today, my friend, is the real initiation,” said Wade. “You remember that party in the first week? The start of semester party? That was nothing compared to this! This is Mexicana! This is going to be off the hook!”

“It’s not til tonight, Wade.”

“We don’t even have ponchos!”

“We’ll get some towels and tie them together.”

“You, my friend, are a genius. Now get up! Your class starts at nine and we need to shower!”

Peter groaned again.

 

Wade had to admit, he loved the way Peter looked in the morning. Hair all messed up, his eyes half-shut. He liked seeing the younger boy half-naked, his back muscles shifting as he turned his face away, not wanting to get out of bed. He noticed that there were a few pinkish scars across his ochre skin – they didn’t look too serious, but they weren’t from football, either. Apart from the fact Peter had never played football.

“C’mon Pete. We can get Starbucks before class starts.”

“Fine. I’ll get up.”

Satisfied, Wade wandered back to his own room to get himself fresh clothes and a towel and go to the showers. He and Peter had struck up a good friendship, and Wade really wanted to take Peter out – on a proper date, all romantic and shit – but he didn’t want to scare him off. Peter always avoided talking about sex or anything intimate with Wade or anybody else.

To get his mind off Peter, Wade had asked out that blue haired girl from the burger bar. She was really nice and sweet but she turned out to be completely obsessed with superheroes, and that turned Wade right off. Yes, he knew about all that, he could happily go without, thanks very much.

He’d hit on a few people at that party a few weeks ago but all the freshmen were either throwing up or too nervous to go for anything, so Peter and Wade had ended up playing Uno back in Peter’s room.

Peter didn’t even drink that much. Wade had offered him Jagerbombs and beer and even some colourful green drink he’d stolen from a passed out girl, but Peter had one beer and said that would be enough for him. Wade’s usual method of getting potential bed partners drunk wasn’t working, not with Pete.

Wade sighed. He wasn’t a patient man. He never had been. His age difference also wasn’t a bother – technically, he was twenty nine. Biologically speaking. He had been around a lot longer than that, but now his healing powers were all but gone, he was beginning to age again. Slowly, but surely, he would get old.

But Peter didn’t have to know he was over fifty years old. He didn’t have to know about the Deadpool thing at all. Let’s be honest, it wasn’t the greatest pick up line.

After having showered, Wade got dressed and went back to his room, and saw Peter had gone, probably to the showers. He got back ten minutes later – Wade saw him walk past in a jeans and shirt, yawning. Peter didn’t walk back to his room in a towel, he always got dressed in the bathroom. Wade did, too – he didn’t think having everybody see his scars would be of great benefit. Raised eyebrows and whatnot. It wouldn’t do.

Once Peter had packed his backpack, and Wade had grabbed his, they wandered down the road to the Starbucks for their morning coffee. It was a bit of a ritual now. Peter often needed something to wake him up. He was still a teenager, after all.

After ordering, they sat down at the bench and waited for their order, while other students wandered in and out, chatting and ordering and munching on early morning snacks. “So, you drinking tonight, Petey?” asked Wade.

Peter shook his head. “No, I’m taking a trip to New York tomorrow, to see my dads. I gotta get up early.”

“You’re gone all weekend?”

“Yeah.”

Wade pouted. “You could have invited me.”

Peter shrugged. “Sorry, Wade. It’s the first time I’m seeing my family, I – I’d rather it just be me, this time.”

“It’s cool, I’m just messing with you. I’d just love to meet your dads,” said Wade. “Is one of them your biological dad, or -?”

“No, I’m adopted,” said Peter.

“Cool,” said Wade. “Got any siblings?”

“Nope, it’s just me.”

“Lucky you,” said Wade. “I had six.”

“Is that why you’re so loud and annoying?”

“Shut up, I’m wonderful.”

The barista called out their names – Peter and Al Capone – and the two got up and made their way back towards the campus. They both had a class in the same area on Fridays, so they would get coffee and then walk over to their classes at nine.

The courtyard was pretty quiet this morning. Of course, quiet didn’t suit Wade. He was always noisy.

“So what are you gonna get up to in New York?”

Peter shrugged. “Probably just staying at home. Might visit some old friends.”

Wade nudged Peter. “Old lovers, huh?”

Peter frowned, shifting away. “What? No. I’ve only had one girlfriend and she’s not in New York.”

“Ah, yes. Sweet, sweet Gwen. How I wish I could kiss your soft lips, slide my hands down your silky –”

Wade wasn’t expecting Peter to shove him, and the kid was stronger than he looked. Wade laughed, and then went to hit Peter back, but he dodged. He was quick, too. Wade frowned a little, but managed a grin. “Alright,” he said, “Let’s go, kid! You and me!”

He was better prepared this time – Peter, using his free hand, went to slap Wade upside the head, feigned and then went to jab him in the stomach, but Wade knocked his hand away, twisted and turned Peter around. He expected that to be the end of it, but Peter got a hold of him and then spun him back around and threw him on the floor.

Wade gasped as the wind went out of him, and he stared up at the smug grin on Peter’s face. Pushing himself off the ground calmly, Wade stood up, and stared at Peter blankly for a moment. And then his hand shot out and he knocked Peter’s coffee to the ground to join his own.

Peter feigned being hurt. “Now that was just unnecessary,” he said, but began to laugh towards the end of the sentence.

Despite himself and his injured pride, Wade smiled. “You’re an annoying little shit,” he said, pulling his backpack back on. “I’ll see you for lunch, okay?”

“Alright,” said Peter. “Have fun with your computers.”

“Have fun being an asshole.”

Peter smiled.

 

Peter knew he shouldn’t have used any of his physical abilities, but sometimes he just wanted to hit Wade, and honestly it had made him feel a bit better. They had slapped and punched each other a little bit before now, but this was the first time Peter had exerted any great amount of force.

The look on Wade’s face had been priceless. He clearly hadn’t expected Peter to be any good at fighting, considering he was a skinny nineteen year old. Oh, if only he knew. Peter smiled to himself as he thought of what Wade would say.

But there was no way he was going to tell him. It was completely out of the question.

Peter’s class was pretty boring. The lecturer had a habit of just reading straight from the slides, and that really annoyed him, but he persevered, taking notes and keeping track of everything. He preferred pen and paper to using his Mac in class, simply because it stuck in his brain a little better.

The unusual thing about today’s lecture was that somebody had sat next to Peter. Her name was Juliet and she seemed quite nice. She was slender and she wore a nice flowery skirt and she asked Peter what his name is and if they wanted to have lunch or something – he said he was already having lunch with someone, and after they had left the lecture theatre, walking in separate directions, he wondered why he said that. Wade surely wouldn’t have minded. He probably would have approved.

So Peter went to lunch a little confused and unsure of himself, but enjoyed his sandwich nonetheless. 

 

When Peter said he wasn’t going to get drunk at the Mexicana party, he did mean it. But the party was a lot better than expected, and Wade was a bad influence.

The college didn’t let underage students drink. But there was no point in living in a college town if there weren’t a few frauds around. Getting Peter a fake ID was easy enough – getting him to use it was more difficult. The security guard let them both in without blinking.

The only thing worth blinking at were their outfits. Luckily for the two, they had found a market stall selling ponchos (clearly it was the season) and had stolen some sombreros from the Mexican restaurant. Wade had tried to draw a moustache on Peter with a permanent marker, but Peter was quicker than he looked.

Wade soon discovered that while beer and vodka didn’t do much to get Peter very drunk, tequila was the key. Peter had one shot and he squeezed his eyes shut, and Wade clapped him on the shoulder as he forced it down. “Nice one, Pete!” he shouted over the loud music.

“That stuff is terrible,” said Peter, but he smiled. A few shots later and he was smiling a lot more, swaying a little bit as he tried to stand still. And once he was a little drunk, getting him more drunk was really easy. It was like a snowball effect.

By the time midnight came around, Peter was dancing – something Wade never thought he would see. The teenager had his arms in the air and was jumping around like an idiot, and Wade threw down another shot before going over to where he was.

The two danced like idiots, getting laughs from the girls and guys around them. But Wade really only had eyes for Peter. He took the younger boy’s hand and began to dance comically, like some sort of tango. Their antics were met with clapping and cheering from their fellow students, and Peter nearly fell when he gave an elaborate bow.

After they went off to the side to have a breather, Peter said something, but Wade couldn’t hear. He moved closer so Peter could speak into his ear, and he said, “I think – I’m pretty tired.” Wade liked the way Peter’s hot breath felt against the skin of his neck.

Wade nodded. “Reckon we better call it a night?”

“Yeah. I need – I’ve got an early morning. I gotta catch a plane.”

“I know, buddy. Come on, let’s turn in.”

Wade slung Peter’s arm around his shoulder, and gave a friendly nod to the security man as they walked out of the common room. Considering he was probably more drunk than he had ever been, Peter took the stairs pretty well, and he even managed to get his door open all on his own.

He threw his poncho and sombrero to the ground when he got into his room, not bothering to turn the light on. He stumbled slightly, searching for his bed, and Wade caught him, helping him stay upright.

Peter gave him a lopsided grin. “Thanks Wade,” he said. “You’re a good friend.”

“What can I say?” replied Wade casually, but he was feeling a little warm at how close they were standing. Peter had his hand on Wade’s shoulder and Wade was holding Peter’s middle, to stop him from falling.

He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but suddenly he’d closed the gap, tipped up Peter’s chin and pressed their lips together. He heard Peter gasp, his eyes wide open, and when Wade moved his lips, Peter didn’t respond.

Wade pulled back, waiting for Peter to say something.

The only thing he managed to say was, “Wade?” so Wade threw his own sombrero to the floor and pulled Peter back in for another kiss. He tasted like tequila and pineapple juice and he made a small whimpering sound, before his lips moved as well, moulding to Wade’s, his hands finding the front of his poncho. Wade felt his stomach flip and his heart pounding.

His hands gripped onto Peter’s sides, one hand sliding to rest at his lower back, pulling their hips together. Peter drew breath at this, too, and Wade took that as encouragement. His hand moved to Peter’s front and went under his shirt, sliding along the smooth skin of his abdomen, the sensation making Peter’s back arch up slightly.

But a moment later, Peter was pushing Wade away, and he broke the kiss. “No, no – Wade, I – I can’t,” he stammered, gasping for breath.

“Why not?” Wade murmured, leaning down to kiss at Peter’s neck.

“I – I’m not – I haven’t – Wade, stop,” he groaned, clearly enjoying the sensation.

Sighing, Wade pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t,” Peter said, staring at the floor.

“You can,” said Wade.

“No, I mean – I don’t know how,” Peter replied, struggling to explain himself.

Wade frowned. “You mean you don’t know how to, or you don’t know how it will be in the morning?”

“Both,” said Peter, and Wade saw a slight blush in his cheeks.

Wade was hard but he wasn’t going to force Peter just because he needed release. And he knew Peter was hard, too – their lower halves were still pressed together. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. That’s alright. We don’t have to do anything. But I know you’re turned on, and I’m not going to stop trying.”

Peter went red again, and he asked, “Not tonight?”

“I won’t try again tonight, dummy. Some other time. Tonight we can sleep.”

“We?”

“You can’t just kiss me and then kick me out. We won’t have sex, but I want to sleep here.”

Peter hesitated, but he nodded. “Okay. That’s – okay.”

At Peter’s request, Wade left the room while he got changed, and Wade took the chance to get into his own pyjamas, too – a pair of plain black boxer shorts.

But Peter did let him back in, and they managed to fit together on the single bed, Peter’s back pressed against Wade’s chest, Wade’s arm slung over the teen’s slender body and their legs all tangled together. They fell into a hazy sleep not long after, Wade relaxing as he inhaled the scent of Peter’s skin.


	3. Chapter 3

_We were young, we were in our teens_   
_It wasn't real love, spent behind bars_   
_Oh it's sad to think, we just let it be_   
_Prisoners of love_

When Peter drifted into consciousness the next morning, the first thing he felt wasn’t a headache. It was something warm against his back, and a heavy arm across his middle. Thinking he was dreaming, Peter relaxed, his eyes slowly closing.

The next time he woke up, he remembered, and panicked. Not in a flailing sort of panic, though – he just felt his skin go clammy and his breathing went uneven. He gingerly picked up Wade’s hand at the wrist and pulled him off, and crept out of the bed. He swayed a little as he stood, the blood rushing from his brain.

He stared at the half-naked man in his bed. Wade looked very calm as he slept, his usually styled hair out of place, his cheeky grin notably absent. He looked older. More to the point, he looked like a half-naked man in Peter’s bed.

He started to panic again before he realised he had a plane to catch. Scrambling through his clothes to find the jeans he was wearing last night, pulling his phone from the pocket, he swore. He was meant to be up and gone an hour ago. Not that it mattered, really, because it was Tony’s plane – but as much as Peter didn’t like being a spoilt brat, he didn’t like being a late brat either.

Pulling his bag from under the cupboard, Peter threw in all the clean clothes he thought of – almost forgetting his underwear and socks – and threw in his iPod, phone, deodorant and a few books he’d need to read on the plane to keep himself occupied. Otherwise all he would do is think about Wade. Peter didn’t have to worry about hiding any of his Spider-Man gear, because it wasn’t there. 

Knowing he would be awake soon, Peter scribbled a note and put it on the bed side table.

> _Hi Wade, had to catch my plane. Hope you’re okay. The key to my room is on the desk._

Not knowing what else to say, Peter signed his name and left, glancing at his friend one last time before leaving.

 

The flight was pretty boring. The plane was small, not one of Tony’s impressive jets. Peter had the cabin to himself, and there was only one flight attendant and she pretty much left him alone, after he said he was happy with juice and sandwiches.

Arriving in New York was better. Peter had spent his entire morning being uptight and on edge, but when he stepped off the plane and saw Steve and Tony waiting to the side of the runway, he smiled like an idiot and went straight to them. He wanted to run into their arms, but he was exhausted, and the best he could do was walk.

Tony stepped forward and hugged him and Peter sighed as he rested his heavy head against his dad’s shoulder. “Hey, Dad,” he murmured.

“Hey Pete,” said Tony, pulling back so Steve could embrace him.

Steve’s hugs were a little more intense than Tony’s – he was always more emotional. He held him for longer, too. “C’mon, Pop,” said Peter, smiling. “You’re gonna crush me.”

Steve smiled back. “Sorry, son. Just good to see you.”

They piled into Tony’s car and set off for Stark Tower. Steve was already asking questions about college and Tony kept telling him to give the kid a break, and Peter just smiled. It was good to be back with his parents.

Stopping for breakfast at a diner, Tony ordered coffee and pancakes with bacon for all three of them and Steve ordered double. While they waited for their meals, Peter’s dads began with the questions again.

“Are you okay, Peter?” Steve asked. “You look unwell.”

“There, uh – there was a party last night,” said Peter, rubbing at his eye.

“But you’re underage, so no drinking, right?” Steve asked, cautiously.

Peter simply smiled and said, “Yeah, Pop. I mean – no.”

Tony laughed. “Let it go, Steve. Besides, we let him drink at home.”

“That’s different,” said Steve. “What if he – gets hurt, or –”

“Or if I get really smashed and tell somebody who I am?” Peter finished. He could see the way Steve glanced at Tony that this was exactly what they were worried about. “Don’t worry about it,” said Peter. “Really. I’d never get that drunk. Or that stupid.”

“We know,” said Tony. “We just want you to have a nice few years off. Or even forever, if you want it.”

“Not to mention that we’re your dads, and we’re allowed to worry about you,” said Steve.

“Allowed to? We’re supposed to,” added Tony. The conversation ended when their coffee arrived. Peter had never felt so happy to see a coffee in his life.

Moving to a new topic, Tony asked, “So, made any friends at college?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, there’s Wade, who lives in the room next to me. He’s pretty cool. And some people from my classes – they’re nice.”

“Is Wade doing biomedical engineering, too?” asked Tony.

“No, he’s doing computer science.”

Thankfully, they changed subject, talking about the different degrees and asking Peter if he was enjoying his major and if he needed any help with anything. Peter was glad that they didn’t talk too much about Wade.

He could relax, here, with his dads and his pancakes. He didn’t have to worry about anything, just yet.

 

Wade wasn’t really impressed with the messy note Peter had left him, but to be fair, they hadn’t slept together – well they had slept together, but there was no sex. He couldn’t expect Peter to give him a kiss before he went, even though that would’ve been nice.

Wade groaned, running a hand down his tired face. If Peter ran off with his tail between his legs after one kiss, what would he do when they actually had sex?

What if Peter didn’t want to have sex?

Is Peter straight? He seemed pretty gay last night.

Maybe he’s only gay for me.

The thoughts running through Wade’s head were all over the place and only making his brain hurt more. He wished he could just talk to Peter but the kid was gone, probably in New York by now. Wade was annoyed he had slept right through the morning.

Picking up his phone, Wade sent a quick text to Peter, asking him if he was safe and that he would see him on Monday. Not expecting him to text back instantly, Wade shoved it into the elastic of his shorts and made to go back to his room.

Unfortunately, somebody spotted him coming out of Peter’s room. The guy’s name was Josh, he slept in a room just down the corridor, and he was wandering back to his room when he saw Wade.

“Whatcha doing in Pete’s room, Wade?” Josh asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Wade rolled his own eyes. “Yeah, you’d like that. I’m extremely hung over and Peter wasn’t in there anyway, he’s in New York. I’m keeping a hold of his key, I must have slept in the wrong bed.”

Josh made few more crude remarks as he wandered back down the hallway – Wade didn’t care, the guy was just having a joke. But it didn’t help Wade get his mind off the fact that Peter had run off without saying goodbye, and it wasn’t really a nice feeling.

Wade sat down on his own bed and checked his phone, but there was no response. He sighed.

 

Peter stared at the text message from Wade, trying to think of something to respond with, and actually writing a few reply messages, but not being brave enough to send any of them. So he put his phone back into his pocket, and he forgot about the whole thing.

He was back home, at the apartment Tony had designed especially to be their home, at the second highest floor of Stark Tower. It was huge, and Peter had his own bedroom and bathroom, he even had his own lounge room. But right now he was in the main lounge with his dads, sitting on the couch, eating popcorn and watching movies.

“Getting messages from all your admirers?” said Steve with a grin.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I have to beat them off with a stick.”

“No, really. I think you’re a good catch,” added Tony.

Peter sighed. “Parents are always biased.”

“We more than most. We didn’t even make you and we still think you’re amazing,” said Tony bluntly. That made Peter laugh.

“Really, though,” said Steve, “Have you met anybody you like?”

“It wouldn’t matter if I did,” Peter said, chewing on the corner of his jacket. “I can’t put somebody in danger like that. And I – I think if people found out I was your son, they wouldn’t like me for me. You know?”

Steve went to shake his head, but Tony agreed wholeheartedly. “Trust me, most of the people I have ever loved didn’t love me at all. They just loved my name and my money. It’s better for Peter if his friends don’t know who we are.”

Steve was a little unsure about it but he agreed in the end. “I suppose so. If it’s what’s best.”

Peter tried to smile but his face always looked a bit messed up when he was faking a smile, and his dads knew him better than anybody and they saw it.

“You’ve met somebody already, haven’t you?” Steve said with a sigh. “Look, you can bring her around whenever you like, if you want. We don’t mind.”

Peter grimaced. “Thanks, Pop, but – uh – I don’t think he will end up being with me anyway.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. This was the first time Peter had openly admitted to his dads that he was interested in boys, too, and though they appeared a little surprised, they went on, having no problems with it.

“Because he doesn’t like you, or because you won’t let yourself like him?” asked Steve, quietly.

Peter ran both of his hands through his hair. He hated talking about relationships with his parents. “Number two.”

“That’s unfair to the other guy,” said Tony.

“Hey, I’m your son. I'm your priority.”

“Sorry. That bastard, damn him for falling for my wonderful son and causing him emotional pain.”

“Better.”

They had a small laugh, but a moment later Steve said seriously, “Look, Peter, if there’s anything we can do to help –”

Peter nodded. “I know. Thanks, Pop.”

 

It was by chance Wade went to return a library book on Sunday night that Peter got back. When he came back up the hallway, he saw the light under Peter’s door and he immediately knocked.

Peter hesitated for longer than usual before replying, “Yeah.” He knew who it was. Nobody else knocked at his door.

Wade opened the door, and saw Peter sitting down at his desk. “Can I come in?” he asked.

Peter nodded, nudging his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

Wade stepped in, shutting the door behind him. “How did you get in?” he asked, taking the key out of his pocket.

“Oh – I, um – window,” said Peter, pointing at the open window.

Wade raised his eyebrows but didn’t press the matter. “How was New York?”

“Good, yeah. It was good,” said Peter.

“Cool,” said Wade.

The heavy silence that hung between them was almost painful. Wade sighed. “Look, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you at all since Friday. You ran off in the morning, and you didn’t reply to my texts.”

“I know,” said Peter quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” said Wade, sitting himself on Peter’s bed. “I just don’t like being ignored.”

“I know,” Peter said again. “Look, I got a little overwhelmed. I don’t – I’m not good at this.”

“At being with extremely attractive men or at having sex at all?”

“Sex, at all, with anyone,” said Peter, sheepishly.

Wade smiled. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“I – thanks. But it’s more complicated than that. I don’t – I can’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. It’s too – complicated.”

“How?” said Wade, frowning.

“I can’t explain,” said Peter. “It’s – personal. I can’t be with you outside of semester.”

“Why?” asked Wade, even more confused. “Is it because of your dads?”

“No – well, sort of,” said Peter, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just – complicated.”

“You keep saying complicated, that doesn’t help,” said Wade, a little frustrated. When Peter looked down, he sighed, and said, “Look, I don’t mean that. If – if being with you means not seeing you over summer or not meeting your dads or whatever, that’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked.

Wade nodded. “Everybody has their personal things. I can deal with that.”

Peter half smiled. “Thanks, Wade.”

“That’s okay, Pete,” he replied. They sat in silence for a moment before Wade asked, “Can I kiss you now?”

Peter looked a little shocked at first, but then he laughed. “I – yeah, I guess. If you want to.”

“Do you want to?”

Their brown eyes met and Peter replied quietly, “Yeah.”

Wade stood up and pulled Peter from his chair, and gently pulled his glasses from his face, placing them on the desk. Brushing the hair from Peter’s face, Wade watched the younger boy’s brown eyes flick back and forth between his own, wide and apprehensive but not scared.

Slipping his hand to the back of Peter’s neck, lacing his fingers into his thick hair, Wade leaned in and kissed him. This time, Peter was sober, alert, and not taken by surprise, and he responded immediately, his lips moving with Wade’s, his hands grasping onto Wade’s shirt and making small noises as he exhaled, groaning as they explored each other’s mouths.

Wade felt dizzy, something that didn’t usually happen. He could probably kiss Peter forever and not get tired of it. Slipping his tongue out to trace Peter’s lips, Wade smiled a little at the way the teenager gasped.

When Wade pulled away a little, and stared at him incredulously, Peter blushed and murmured, “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

Pulling Peter back, Wade kissed him again, this time taking Peter’s jaw in his hand, opening his mouth, giving Wade space to stroke inside Peter’s mouth with his tongue. The teenager moaned audibly at this, and Wade opened his eyes to see him blushing furiously.

Wade didn’t think he was going to get carried away but it was so difficult not to. His hands were already beneath Peter’s shirt, dragging his fingernails across the sensitive skin of Peter’s abdomen and then around to his back, making the teenager arch, his body not used to all the sensations.

“God, you’re so responsive,” Wade murmured against Peter’s neck, nipping at the pulse point.

“Sh-shut up,” Peter stammered.

“No, it’s a good thing. I like it,” said Wade, tracing his fingers down Peter’s spine. He really did enjoy the way Peter moved with every touch, his skin hot under Wade’s hands.

When Wade finally paused, pulling back to make sure Peter was okay, he felt his pants get tighter at his red-clouded cheeks and half-lidded eyes, lips parted, chest shuddering as Peter tried to control his breathing. He looked so debauched and they hadn’t even done anything yet.

“You okay?” Wade asked, unable to think of much to say, for once.

Peter nodded, licking his lips. He reached out to Wade, pulling him back to kiss him again. Wade let him take the lead, and his kisses were softer, a little tentative, but no less needy. Wade felt his hands wander again, up Peter’s shirt, and he was surprised when the teenager grasped the material and pulled it completely over his head, throwing it to the floor.

Wade didn’t have time to think as Peter grasped his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, and then he felt Peter’s hand slide beneath his own shirt and ghost over his hip. Wade wanted to badly to throw Peter to the bed but he didn’t want to scare him off.

Wade groaned when he felt Peter’s calloused fingers trace his snail-trail before sliding beneath the elastic of his boxers, and he broke the kiss to say, his voice dry, “Peter – I don’t think I have enough self control for you to do shit like that.”

“I know,” said Peter simply, before he tugged at Wade’s shirt and pulled it up. Wade lifted his arms to let the teenager get his way, and then he stared down at him, waiting for him to say something – like ‘I want to do this’, or ‘I want you Wade’, or ‘even take me now’. Wade wasn’t picky.

But all he did was give Wade a half-smile and he said, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

So Wade took him into his arms and threw him onto the bed. Peter made a surprised sound but it turned to a groan as Wade crawled on top of him and kiss him again, settling against him, one leg between Peter’s, and Wade felt the bulge in Peter’s jeans.

Breaking from his lips, Wade began to kiss at Peter’s neck again, but with more vigour than before. He bit at the smooth skin, tongue tracing the line of his collarbone, his unshaven face leaving Peter’s neck red and worn.

All the while, Peter was writhing beneath him, his hips lifted up to Wade’s, gasping for breath as his hand grasped onto Wade’s forearm. Peter breathed his name and Wade smiled. This was all going pretty well, all things considered.

“You okay, Pete?” asked Wade, his lips trailing down Peter’s chest. “I would hate to make you uncomfortable.”

“Christ,” Peter hissed. “Just – Wade, please – I –”

“Please what?” Wade asked, sucking at Peter’s nipple, grinning as the teenager bit back a moan.

“I – I need – Wade, just –” Peter said between breaths, his voice tight, and then Wade felt Peter take his hand and pull it towards the teenager’s clothed erection.

“Peter – are you sure?”

“Shut up,” Peter managed, and then Wade figured that this was the best course of action. His large hand pressed against Peter’s erection and the teenager groaned, the friction only making him more frustrated. 

Wade quickly unbuttoned Peter’s jeans and unzipped them, and without hesitation slipped his hand beneath the denim to cup Peter through his briefs. Peter bucked into Wade’s touch, and as Wade carefully rubbed him through the cotton the teenager made a desperate whine.

Wade smiled, before he unbuttoned his own pants and freed himself from the tightness, gripping his own member while he touched Peter. When the teenager saw Wade doing this, he blushed again, and Wade said, “Like what you see, kid?”

Peter’s only response was to open his mouth and shut it again, and Wade smiled. He was cute.

Moving backwards slightly, Wade tugged Peter’s jeans halfway down his legs and then gently tugged down his briefs. Peter’s length sprung from the confines, and Wade wasted no time grasping a hold, the rough skin of his hand finally making contact, and Peter groaned as Wade began to slide up and down, his thumb pressing over the tip, spreading the precome across his head.

Wade took one of Peter’s hands in his own and put it on his own cock, and Peter was still at first, but soon began to copy Wade’s actions. Wade could probably have come in seconds, the way Peter’s hand felt on him.

“Tighter,” Wade growled, and Peter grasped him harder. Soon they had set a rhythm, Peter bucking up into Wade’s grip and Wade thrusting into Peter’s hand, Peter’s strangled moans mixing with Wade’s hoarse ones.

“Fuck, Pete,” Wade hissed, “You – feel so – fucking good.”

“Don’t you ever – shut up?” Peter replied, and Wade looked down to see a smile playing on Peter’s parted lips.

“Not when I’m awake,” Wade replied smartly, before tugging hard at the top of Peter’s dick, effectively wiping the smile from the cheeky teenager’s face.

Wade could feel he was close, and he knew Peter would be, too. But he wanted to test the kid, wanted to try something with him.

Leaning closer, his arm resting beside Peter’s head, Wade said, “Don’t come until I say so.” He started pumping him harder than before, and Peter’s hand went tighter as he did, making Wade groan.

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Shit – Wade – please –”

“Not yet,” Wade growled. He wanted to see how much control he could have over Peter. Could he find the strength to fight an orgasm, simply because Wade told him to?

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “Wade –”

“Wait – now,” Wade groaned, as he felt himself coming to a finish. Peter snapped, letting out a cry as he erratically jerked, falling apart, strings of white come streaking across his chest, mixing with Wade’s own release.

Wade took a moment to gather his wits and his oxygen before opening his eyes to stare down at Peter. The teenager’s hair was a mess, his eyes were closed, his lips open as he gasped for breath, his body shuddering. Wade wondered how long it had been for Peter.

“Peter,” Wade managed, his voice nearly gone. “Are you okay?”

Peter nodded, his eyes opening just a little to look up at Wade. His lip then twitched into a smile, and Wade laughed, tiredly, before he went to lie beside him – having forgotten it was a single bed, Wade fell onto the floor.

Peter laughed a little too much at that, but Wade didn’t feel like he had the energy to teach him a lesson. So he groaned and got back up, threw a box of tissues at Peter and said, “Do it yourself then, smartass.”

Peter looked too tired to be embarrassed, but he pulled his briefs back up all the same, cleaning the mess from his abdomen. He got all the tissues in the bin when he threw them, and Wade would have been impressed except he didn’t care. He got back on the bed, gathered Peter up in his arms and said, “And now we cuddle.”

“You want to– okay,” said Peter, relaxing into Wade’s embrace. They lay there for a while, unmoving but for their chests inhaling and exhaling.

Wade was the one to break the silence, as always. He traced a finger down a long white scar on Peter’s chest, and he said, “What’s this?”

Peter frowned, before glancing down. “Oh, that. That’s nothing.”

Wade glanced at him. “Looks pretty bad.”

“The, uh - kids at my school used to carry knives.”

Wade moved so he was resting on his elbow. “Seriously?” said Wade. “That’s – pretty terrible.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “But I’m here now, and so far the kids are being much nicer.” He grinned like an idiot and Wade realised he was joking.

“That’s funny,” said Wade. “I hope nobody else treats you as nicely as I do.”

“We’ll see what other offers I get.”

“Oh, so you have a sense of humour after you’ve had a jerk? That’s nice. That's funny. Maybe I should jerk you off more often.”

“Maybe you should.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> less plot, more smut. yolo.

_It's so easy for it to be something second guessed_   
_Easy to read, don't let it become_   
_A meaningless routine, it's meaningless to me_

Peter woke up a few times during the night. While Wade seemed to be able to sleep absolutely anywhere, Peter wasn’t used to sleeping beside somebody in such a small space. He was used to being alone.

But being awake wasn’t so bad. He was able to think about everything that had happened and he wasn’t freaking out about it. It was actually really nice, being with Wade. The main reason Peter had tried to push him away was because of who he was and his parents – once Wade said that personal things wouldn’t get in the way, Peter was all his.

He could smell Wade, and he smelled like sweat and sort of leafy and musky – Peter assumed that was his deodorant. He also seemed a lot bigger when they were both shirtless and lying together – Peter was toned, but he was naturally thin. Wade was all muscle, and he was broad-shouldered and he was tall and he made Peter feel like a child.

As before, Wade looked much older when he was sleeping. He looked worn – Peter could see in the dim light drifting in the window that Wade had scars, too. Plenty of them. Peter hadn’t seen them before because most of them were quite faint – tiny white crosshatches across Wade’s skin. But there were a few bigger ones that made Peter frown. One went all the way around his forearm, like it had been cut off and reattached, but it was so light Peter wondered if he was imagining things.

He probably was. He could feel himself drifting in and out of sleep. He wanted to stay awake, but he was tired.

 

Waking up was a different matter entirely. Peter was on his side and Wade was curled around him, kissing at his neck. Peter groaned, stretching his long legs out til they reached over the edge of the bed, and Wade murmured, “Morning, Pete.”

“Hi,” said Peter tiredly. “What time is it?”

“I don’t care,” Wade replied, but Peter had a class to go to at ten, and he needed to know the time. Reaching out to the bedside table, he checked his phone – it was quarter past eight.

“Heaps of time,” said Peter with a happy sigh. He settled back down and Wade went back to kissing his neck and shoulder, sending bumps along Peter’s skin.

Peter groaned. “Wade, what are you doing?”

“It is a beautiful morning and I woke up here beside a beautiful man. What am I supposed to do?” he asked, gently nipping at Peter’s ear, and laughing as the teenager squirmed. “I love that. You’re so much fun.”

“Glad I entertain you,” Peter grumbled, and he began to get out of bed, but Wade grasped onto his leg and nearly tipped him over. Peter managed to stay upright, but he still had a man attached to his thigh.

“Wade,” Peter said, but the older boy had already pulled himself into a sitting position and was kissing at Peter’s hip and stomach, the skin waking up and growing hot.

Peter tried to get some self control. “Wade,” he said, “Can’t we – can’t we just have breakfast?”

Wade paused and looked up at him, before replying, “This is my breakfast.”

Peter groaned, rubbing at his dry eyes. “Come on, Wade, I think we should –” Peter’s voice caught in his throat as he felt something nudging at his briefs, and he looked down to see Wade pressing kisses to the outline of his cock.

“W-Wade,” Peter stammered, “What are you doing?”

“Breakfast,” replied Wade.

Oh, Peter thought. He stood very still for a moment, feeling Wade’s hot breath and lips on his length and then he shifted backwards, pushing Wade away. “No, no – stop,” he said, words tumbling out of his mouth.

Wade stared at him. “What?”

“I – no,” said Peter incoherently, shaking his head. “Just – not right now, okay? I am still – processing all of this.”

“We had a mutual wank last night and now I’m not allowed to touch you?”

Wade’s crude language wasn’t doing much to clear Peter’s brain. “I didn’t say that you can’t touch me!” he exclaimed, pulling on a pair of jeans hurriedly. “I just – I need you to consider that – that I am apprehensive and cautious and generally a crap person to do anything sexual with, and I like you and I want to be with you but right now it is too early and I need you to give me a bit of time and space until I can do this.”

Peter finally took a breath, the words all gone into the air, and Wade was staring at him with a completely blank expression, sitting on the bed looking like a statue. Peter swallowed, scratching at his hair, waiting for him to say something.

When he did, it wasn’t quite what Peter expected. Wade said, “That is the most I have ever heard you say.”

Peter smiled a little. “I’m sorry. I just – I can’t rush into this. You gotta give me time to get used to it.”

Wade stood up and Peter was taken aback when he gently pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay,” said Wade. “Patience isn’t one of my finer qualities. But I’ll try.”

“Thankyou,” said Peter, leaning into the one-armed embrace, resting his forehead against Wade’s shoulder.

There was a moment of silence before Wade said, “So are we talking like this week, or a month? Because if it’s longer than a month I am going to need you to buy me some porn DVDs or something.”

Peter smiled. “I’m not even going to grace that with an answer.”

 

They saw each other later that day – Peter didn’t have any classes after lunch and Wade had skipped his. Wade had a huge folder full of DVDs and CDs, and let Peter flick through the collection to find a movie he liked. Peter didn’t feel like anything too intellectual or supernatural at the moment, and he wanted to eat popcorn, which they had made using the communal microwave in the common room. Peter chose Mission Impossible 2, because action movies were the best for eating popcorn. 

Peter was lying against Wade. It had taken him a while to get comfortable, but he had eventually found a place he liked. Wade’s arm around his shoulders, Peter resting his head in the crook of Wade’s neck, his arms folded and hands tucked into his sides, and his bare feet stretched out, just touching Wade’s, who was wearing socks.

Wade had been on good behaviour all night. He had given Peter a few chaste kisses but hadn’t been inappropriate, and had actually said to Peter that he was calling the shots from now on, and Wade wouldn’t do anything unless he was asked to. That made Peter less nervous.

Wade was wearing shorts and socks and a white cotton singlet. It was what he usually wore when he was staying indoors. He dressed quite nicely most of the time – he wore fitted shirts and nice jeans – always a good pair of Levi’s on hand, and he had a blazer which he wore out every now and then. But at home he was the laziest and most uncaring person.

“Why do you always get so dressed up when you’re going out?” Peter asked casually as they watched the movie.

“Why do you ask?”

“It just occurred to me that you put in effort to look good.”

“I am so flattered that you noticed. All you ever wear is jeans and hoodies,” Wade snorted.

“Hey, I occasionally wear cardigans.”

“You hipster shit.”

Peter punched Wade in the ribs lightly, who wheezed, “Jesus, no need to get violent.”

“Answer my question,” Peter said, smiling a little. “Why do you dress nice?”

“Can’t a man have a sense of fashion without being interrogated for it?”

“I’m just curious.”

Wade sighed. “Alright. I had a lot of self image issues, and I put effort into dressing because I know what it’s like to be looked at funny.”

“Who looked at you funny?”

“Everybody. I was a funny looking kid.”

Peter felt a bit sad for Wade. He knew what it was like to be made an outcast. “Sorry, Wade.”

“It’s not your fault. Besides, I turned out alright, didn’t I?”

“You turned out very well.”

“Thanks, babe.”

Peter turned his face up to look at Wade, and then gingerly moved in to kiss him. It was careful, but Peter heard Wade take a sharp breath and his body tensed slightly. Peter kissed him gently, small careful kisses, and Wade curled his arm to bring Peter closer, a small noise coming from the back of his throat.

Wade didn’t bother breaking the kiss to speak. “You – okay?” he murmured.

“Mm-hmm,” Peter replied, hand moving to hold Wade’s neck. “Very.”

The movie was forgotten and the popcorn was, too, as the two pressed against each other, each movement very slow and careful, Wade not nearly as aggressive as he had been the night before.

“Wade,” Peter murmured, “I’m asking.”

“Asking?”

“I want – I want you to touch me,” Peter said, blushing as he said it.

The grin on Wade’s face was beautiful. “As you wish,” he said, and then Peter was being rolled into Wade’s lap, and Wade’s hands travelled beneath clothes to touch his skin. Peter groaned as Wade dragged his fingernails down his back. Peter’s legs went to either side of Wade’s hips and when Wade rocked up into him, the strangled moan that came from his mouth would have been embarrassing if he wasn’t so caught up in the moment.

Wade tugged Peter’s shirt up and over his head, and as he ran his hands across Peter’s skin and kissed at his neck, he said, smirking, “Now, Peter, it’s never too late to say no –”

"Shut up,” Peter groaned, grasping Wade’s face and crushing their lips back together, Peter opening his lips and touching his tongue to Wade’s, the guttural moan coming from Wade’s throat making Peter feel quite smug.

Peter tugged at Wade’s vest until he managed to pull it from his body, and then fumbled with the button on his jeans, wishing he’d worn slightly comfier clothes.

“Maybe no pants next time?”

“Shut up, Wade.”

Wade smiled as he kissed at Peter’s neck again, leaving the same red marks he had yesterday, worrying the skin, and Peter couldn’t help but grind down, desperate for friction. Wade’s hand slipped into his jeans and Peter’s hips shifted forward, a shaky sigh leaving his lips, finally getting some relief.

“What made you change your mind?”

It took Peter a moment to realise that he had been asked a question. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to compose a response. “I – I just – wanted you,” he managed through gritted teeth. “I was – nervous this morning.”

“You don’t need to be nervous with me, baby,” Wade whispered, tugging down Peter’s briefs to release his erection entirely, and Peter shuddered as Wade’s hand began to stroke him. Peter reached his own hand down and delved into Wade’s shorts.

“You’re so hard already,” Peter said, not realising he was speaking out loud, and his cheeks went red as he realised.

Wade simply smiled. “You know why?” Peter shook his head. Wade went on, saying, “Because you are so sexy. Watching your lips and your eyes and your shaky hands trying to undo your zipper. Watching you squirm in my lap, feeling you so hard for me, hearing the way you tell me to shut up. It’s all so hot. I could touch you all day.”

Peter gasped as Wade’s thumb brushed over the tip, then raised it to his mouth and licked the precome. Peter blushed again as Wade tasted him, and then he said, “You taste amazing, baby.”

“I – do I?” Peter asked, not knowing what else to say.

Wade nodded, his hand returning to Peter’s member. “Do you trust me, Peter?”

Peter nodded, his hips moving up to meet the thrust of Wade’s hand.

"I want to use my mouth. Is that alright?"

Peter’s eyes opened again, and he bit his lip. “Wade –”

“I promise I’ll be nice,” Wade said instantly. “And if you don’t like it I’ll stop. But I want so badly to make you feel good.”

“You make me feel good now,” Peter moaned.

“I’ll make you fall to pieces, Peter,” Wade hissed, his hot tongue darting out to trace the edge of Peter’s ear, hot breath washing over his neck.

Peter wanted so badly to take it slow but he knew if he said no, he would probably regret it later. He knew he’d feel a bit embarrassed if they went ahead with it, but he was so hard and wanting to come so badly he didn’t care. “Yes,” Peter groaned. “I – yes, Wade, please –”

Wade didn’t need any more encouragement. He flipped Peter onto his back and kissed down his chest, brushing over Peter’s nipples with sharp teeth, making the teenager arch his back. 

Wade tugged the briefs down further and Peter jumped as he kissed lower and lower, his tongue darting out to taste the skin, and Peter had to stop from giggling. It was ticklish. But he didn’t need to let Wade know about any weaknesses, because Peter was quite sure they would be abused.

He didn’t worry about that for too much longer because Wade had begun to kiss at Peter’s member, stroking it with his tongue. Peter was completely speechless and breathless and generally devoid of anything except for the sensations of Wade’s mouth on his most intimate region.

He nearly fainted when Wade took him in. It was hot and wet and moving and Peter had to grasp onto Wade’s hair as the older boy began to move, bobbing his head and doing things to Peter that were entirely new and strange, making his hips involuntarily shift upwards, his hands white-knuckled as he gripped the sheets.

Wade’s tongue ran all the way down the underside of his length while his lips closed tightly around him, and every now and then he would slide off entirely and then slide back on, and the feeling of Wade’s lips enveloping his head made Peter groan.

“You okay baby?” Wade asked, lips still on Peter’s cock.

“Y-yeah,” Peter managed, his hands grasping at linen.

He could feel the breath on his skin as Wade chuckled before he went back to work. Peter could hardly think, he was nothing but feeling and he felt amazing. Why didn’t he let Wade do this in the morning? He could have had two blowjobs today. He could have been having blowjobs all day. Who needs college degrees, Peter just wanted blowjobs.

And then suddenly there were no thoughts – it was like he had been travelling along just fine and then the edge was suddenly there, and Peter was so close, about to fall, about to – almost –

“F-fuck, oh my god, Wade – Wade – I –”

Peter’s words turned to a broken cry as he grasped Wade’s hair tight and his hips snapped upwards, and Wade kept on sucking him as he tumbled over the edge, pumping in and out, releasing inside his mouth, warm and wonderful – and Peter collapsed to the bed, unable to move, unable to think.

He shuddered when Wade pulled off, extremely sensitive. He felt Wade lie beside him, pressing gentle kisses to his shoulder, and he heard him say, “Was that okay, baby?”

“That – that was – I don’t even know,” Peter sighed, his eyes half-opening. “Why didn’t I let you do that this morning?”

“Why indeed,” Wade agreed, grinning. “Has anybody ever done that to you?”

Peter shook his head. Yes, he had lost his virginity to Gwen, but they had never performed oral sex on each other. It had all been very handsy and not much else in between.

“Oh baby,” Wade said, “I’m so glad I popped your oral sex cherry.”

Peter lay still for a moment and then he said, “Can you teach me?”

“What?” Wade frowned. “Teach you how to suck cock?”

Peter’s cheeks felt hot but he nodded. Wade’s lip twitched in a half-smile and he said, “You’ve never done it before, have you?”

“No,” Peter replied.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll teach you.”

Peter’s hand trailed down Wade’s naked frame until he found the tent in his shorts, and then he felt a smile spread on his face as he whispered, “Now’s a good time, if you want.”

“Peter – are you sure?”

Peter nodded.

“You were so different this morning. I mean, I’m not complaining or anything, believe me – but will you be okay tomorrow?"

Peter frowned. “I think so. I mean, I feel okay about all this when we’re doing it but I don’t like talking about it when we’re not, and I – I don’t know how to – be comfortable with it.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Wade said calmly. “I promise.”

Peter smiled, and then moved up to kiss him. It was only after he tasted a little saltier did Peter remember where his mouth had been. Surprisingly, he didn’t care. It tasted okay. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad. It was just – there.

Wade broke the kiss to move to the edge of the bed, and he helped Peter to stand up, his legs still a little shaky. “Are you okay, baby?”

Peter nodded. “I want to make you feel good.”

He could see Wade hesitate, but he said, “Alright. Let’s get you an education.”

 

Wade couldn’t believe it when Peter suggested having a blowjob lesson then and there, but he certainly wasn’t going to say no. He helped the teenager down to his knees and watched as Peter pulled down his shorts, revealing his semi-hard cock.

“Now,” Wade said, finding himself breathless already, “Now, you don’t start by taking the whole thing in. I mean, you can if you want, but for your first go I suggest testing the waters.” Peter looked up at him with big brown eyes and Wade groaned. He looked so good down there.

Combing his fingers through Peter’s hair gently, Wade said, “Start by kissing the head – just gently.” He watched as Peter’s lips pressed against his head, and Wade inhaled sharply. “A-and – kiss down – use your hand to hold the base – yes, that’s it –”

He watched as Peter pressed careful kisses to his length, hardening by the second, and Wade gasped as Peter, of his own initiative, stroked the underside with his tongue. 

“Fuuck,” Wade breathed. “That’s good, Peter. Do that again.”

Wade couldn’t move his eyes away from the sight – innocent Peter Parker with his big brown puppy eyes was stroking his dick with an eager tongue. His tongue brushed against his head, lapping up the drop of white at the slit, and Wade’s hips shifted forward, his groans echoing off the walls of the small college room.

“And – now you can try – taking some into your mouth,” Wade groaned, glancing down to see Peter pause his movements to instead take Wade’s head inside, lips sliding down, and Wade swore under his breath.

“Use your tongue – on the bottom, and drag – oh yes, that’s it. That’s perfect, baby,” Wade breathed, as Peter began to move up and down, glancing up at Wade from time to time and the eyes were what made it so much harder for Wade. He could have dealt with having Peter suck at his cock – even when it was slightly messy and not quite a perfect rhythm, it was still fucking good, because it was Peter. But Peter’s big eyes watching Wade, waiting to see what he would say next, watching his reactions to every movement, that made it unbearable. Wade just wanted to thrust into Peter’s lips until he came.

Kneading his fingers into Peter’s scalp, Wade groaned, “Alright, baby – that’s good. You look so good, with your lips around my dick. Fuck, Peter – Jesus Christ –”

It wasn’t long before Wade felt his muscles grow tight and his breathing erratic – he looked down and said, “I’m gonna finish soon Pete – you don’t have to swallow. I – ahh – won’t mind if you don’t…”

Peter glanced up and then began to go faster, sucking a little harder, his teeth accidentally brushing against the underside, and Wade bit into his hand as he thrust up, his body shaking as he spilled himself into Peter’s mouth, over and over again.

Once he had finished, his muscles relaxed and he felt exhausted. Peter moved away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and Wade could see his eyes were glistening, small patches of redness at the side. “Peter,” Wade said, “Are you okay?” His hand moved to hold Peter’s face, gently brushing against his cheek.

Peter nodded and gave him a smile. “I’m okay,” he replied, voice a little raspy.

“Come here,” Wade said, pulling Peter up to hold him, rolling them both onto the bed again. Wade inhaled, the smell of Peter’s hair and sweat making him feel so relaxed. “Baby, you’re so good,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

Peter didn’t reply, he simply shifted so he was comfortable against Wade, and they lay in tired silence as Mission Impossible went on in the background.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEY I'VE NOT UPDATED THIS FOR AGES SO I WROTE SPIDEYPOOLPORN TO APOLOGISE   
> I LOVE YOU AND SORRY IT TOOK AGES <3

_But when I looked at her I thought of only you_  
 _If only there was proof I could use to show it's true_

It was strange being in a relationship with Peter. Sometimes Wade could waltz right into Peter’s room and kiss him, pull him to the bed and have his way. Other times, Peter wanted to be left alone, and Wade knew it was Peter’s own insecurities that caused his mood swings. Sometimes it was hours between sexual escapades – sometimes it was a week. Peter was strange, but Wade knew they weren’t in a proper relationship just yet. They were friends who occasionally sucked each other off, and that was okay. Wade knew Peter didn’t want a boyfriend.

So Wade occasionally tried to get closer to Peter in ways other than sex. Not an easy feat, considering Wade was better at fucking than at being emotionally supportive, and Peter was a very hard nut to crack. He would ask about Peter’s music – the kid listened to some weird shit. The National, Jay-Z, Three Days Grace, The Dandy Warhols. It was all over the place. But Peter seemed keen to talk about his music – he showed Wade his CDs and the photographs he had taken at concerts in New York.

“You’re a photographer?” asked Wade, frowning. He’d known Peter nearly three months and hadn’t seen a camera.

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t had a chance to do any photography here, I can’t set up a darkroom.”

“You do film?”

“I can use digital but I prefer film.”

Wade pressured Peter into showing him an album or portfolio or _something_ – Wade was curious and he wanted to know if Peter was any good. Peter caved eventually, and pulled an album out of his drawer.

Wade was astounded by how good Peter was. Wade had never been impressed by photography much – but Peter had taken pictures of such good quality and developed them himself. He had incredible skill and it showed.

“You’re amazing,” said Wade, glancing up at Peter, who shrugged. “Seriously, man, these are impressive. You should keep up with it.”

“I can’t do anything until I get a darkroom,” said Peter. “I’ve asked around but there aren’t any here, and the spare rooms can’t be boarded up and most professors aren’t keen to let me put my chemicals everywhere.”

Wade frowned. “That’s not fair.”

“What?”

“How come all the kids who wanna play football get given an oval and a ball and a jersey, but you can’t even find a little room to make pictures in?”

“There’s a lot more equipment that goes into photography.”

“Like what?”

“Like – like an enlarger and a timer, easel, trays, tongs, thermometers. Not to mention I’d need chemicals – something phenidone-based for black and white and –”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up,” said Wade, waving his hands in the air. “You can’t just put it in the thing and then have it come out as a photo?”

Peter gave him a funny look before he laughed. “You don’t know anything about photography, do you?”

Wade gave him a grin. “Haven’t got a clue. But I do know how to be persuasive and charming.” He darted down to press a swift kiss to Peter’s cheek before exiting, glancing back to see the teenager running his hands through his hair like he was trying to contain something – excitement or nervousness, Wade wasn’t sure.

 

Peter had been spending the last few days trying to get a clear headspace and figure out what exactly he was doing with Wade. Originally he had simply given in to emotion and need, but now he felt scared. Not for himself, really – he trusted Wade, and would trust him with his life. But Peter knew that Wade’s life couldn’t be safe if they got any more involved. Peter didn’t know how to not like him, but he was trying to weigh up his options – was being with Wade worth endangering his life?

It didn’t help that Wade sauntered around the place with his alarmingly sexy body and gorgeous face, and the fact he was mad for Peter, too. It was alarming, really, and Peter shouldn’t mind at all. But he did. He liked Wade more than he should and it worried him.

So when Wade dragged him halfway across the campus, grasping at his hand like a child, Peter didn’t know how it made him feel at first. Just holding his hand in public. He thought that every person was staring at them, and then he didn’t know if they were at all, and he didn’t know if either of those was good or bad and he knew he was worrying too much about the whole thing.

But he couldn’t shake the awful feeling that he would never be able to be with Wade, not how Wade wanted. Peter wouldn’t be able to do what was right because no matter how good he tried to be, he would not be good for anybody to love. It was just too hard, too dangerous, too heartbreaking.

And then Wade had opened the door to an old storage room on the third floor, and when Peter stepped in he didn’t believe it was real. He almost couldn’t see at first for the darkness, but then his eyes adjusted and he saw everything. The windows had been boarded up with old cardboard boxes and newspapers. There were trays, and a shelf full of big bottles of various chemicals. A large box of photography paper was waiting on the desk. There were tongs, and strings hanging across the room with laundry pegs attached, criss-crossed about the room like spider’s webs, a few photographs already attached (which were actually post cards Wade had nicked from the local newsagent’s).

Peter turned to see Wade shifting his weight from one leg to the other, as though he was nervous. “I mean, I can’t remember all the other stuff you said, or I couldn’t get it online that quickly – but you can get your dads to bring the rest of the stuff you need, right?”

Peter was very silent for a moment before he said, “How did you do this?”

“I told the maintenance staff you were manic depressive and that the only thing that makes you happy is photography. Threats of teen suicide really gets people going, ya know?”

Peter smiled a little at that (even though it was in bad taste), and he felt his resolve slipping. He was trying so hard to keep his distance from Wade, to figure out what he was doing – but every time he decided that this was a bad idea, he would see Wade again, smile and laugh with him, kiss him, and he could never find the strength to give up.

Peter wanted to say that he didn’t need the photography, that Wade made him happy enough for a lifetime worth of photos. He also wanted to tell Wade to keep away from him, tell Wade to stop being so nice, to stop being so annoyingly generous and understanding and caring. Peter wanted to say that he loved him. Peter wanted to run away.

He was so terrible at deciding what was the right thing to say. He always had been, but this was so much worse than usual.

So he stepped towards Wade and snaked his arms around the older boy’s middle, pressing his face into the crook of his shoulder and neck, and he said quietly, “Thank you.”

Wade’s arms held him close, squeezing him tight. “Welcome.”

Peter felt like he was torn in two as Wade kissed him, tasted him, drew soft moans from his lips. He felt like everything about this was wrong, that he should not even be making friends, let alone a boyfriend. He felt like – no, he _knew_ he should walk away before he fell too far, and dragged a perfectly wonderful, smart, handsome and _ordinary_ boy into the dangerous mess that was his life.

And yet he didn’t argue when Wade backed him up against the desk and ground their hips together, he grasped at Wade’s hair, twisting his fingers through the soft strands as Wade kissed at his neck, leaving bite marks and bruises, and he encouraged him with more groans, sighs, gasps –

And then Wade said, “Am I amazing?”

Peter chuckled. “You’re completely, unbelievably, immeasurably amazing.”

“Club can’t even handle me right now.”

“You’re also a loser.”

“Seriously, though. Not being very well handled by clubs.”

Peter smiled for a moment before he realised he really should say something to Wade, about what was going on in his head. Not in great detail, of course, that wouldn’t work – but he had to let him know something.

“Wade, I – I want so badly just to let this happen,” Peter said, his voice little more than a murmur. He saw Wade’s smile fade as he began to speak. “You make – it’s like – it’s like I’m normal.”

“You are alarmingly normal, Pete. Don’t know if you noticed that.”

“It wasn’t always like this,” Peter said quietly. He glanced up to Wade, brown eyes flicking back and forth. “I can’t explain why, but – if I stay with you, I might hurt you.”

“Did something happen to make you think you’re no good?” Wade asked, so serious it made Peter think he was somebody entirely different. “Because if this is a self-esteem thing, it doesn’t –”

“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. “No, I mean – I mean that people I get close to always get hurt. It’s just what happens.”

“There’s nothing that can stop me being with you, Pete. Physically, emotionally, politically –”

Peter shook his head again. “No, I just – I want you to know that – that even if I can’t stay with you, I want to, so badly. But I just – I don’t know –”

Peter didn’t know how Wade would react, but the older boy didn’t walk away. He placed a gentle hand on the back of Peter’s arched neck and pressed their foreheads together, and he said quietly, “You’re a weirdo.”

“I’m sorry –”

“It’s okay.”

Peter felt his breath shaking when he said quietly, “I want us to be together. Even if it’s just for a short while.”

“We are together, Pete,” Wade replied. “I’m all yours, for as long as you’ll have me. And it sounds so corny coming from me, but it’s true. If you have to leave me for some reason or another, I’ll be super fucking sad, but I won’t hate you. I can’t ever hate you, and that’s saying something. I’m really good at hating. I can’t promise that I won’t try to stalk you but I won’t hate you.”

Wade leaned closer and he kissed Peter fervently, his hands grasping at Peter’s hoodie as he drew small guttural sounds from the younger boy’s lips.

“I wish I could give you more,” Peter muttered.

Wade grinned. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Before he even knew what he was saying, Peter said, “Take me.”

Wade’s body had gone still as he stared down at the teenager, and Peter could feel his lips were swollen from kissing and his skin was hot and red, and he was suddenly very self conscious.

“If – if you don’t want to –” Peter began to stammer, but Wade shut him up.

“Peter, I have wanted to fuck you since I saw you fumbling with your keys the first time you got to your room. Please trust me when I say that I want this more than I have wanted anything in my life, and I don’t usually hesitate, but I gotta make sure you’re sure.”

Peter swallowed the lump of nervousness in his throat, and he said, “Take what you can get, right?”

“Don’t do this because of me, Pete.”

“I’m doing it for both of us,” Peter retorted. “I don’t know how long I’ll have you. I – I need to be yours.”

Wade stared at him intently for a moment, as though to make sure there wasn’t even a flicker of doubt in the teenager’s eyes. “Only if you’re sure. And you won’t scamper.”

“I won’t scamper,” Peter replied with a half smile, which Wade proceeded to kiss.

“Okay, then,” said Wade, hesitating a moment before he grinned.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“Of course I am. The most perfect person ever created is asking me to have sex. Stage fright is imminent.”

“But you’re up to the challenge,” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I am going to make this challenge beg for more,” Wade replied with a smirk, before he gave Peter a lingering kiss. He broke it to wander across the room and lock the door.

When he returned to the desk, he wasted no time. Quickly unbuckling and shoving down Peter’s jeans, he grasped onto Peter’s hips and lifted him onto the desk, putting them at the same height. Wade kissed at Peter’s throat and made the younger boy’s skin come to life, while his deft fingers slipped beneath his clothes and dragged the material upwards, until Peter broke the kiss to pull his shirt and jacket over his head.

Wade threw off his own shirt, not caring that it was scrunched and inside-out on the floor. He wanted to feel Peter’s hands on his skin, he wanted to feel his fingers raking over the light dusting of hair on his chest, to feel his nails scraping at the sensitive skin at his hip. He took Peter’s hands in his own and placed them on his skin, while his own hands battled with his belt buckle, his erection straining against the denim.

Peter’s hands did all of the above and more – his nimble fingers dragged themselves down Wade’s spine and traced the lines of his muscled torso, before he scraped a fingernail down the black trail of hair leading below his navel.

Wade growled before he knew what he was doing and Peter smiled, feeling a bit smug.

Before Wade pulled down his pants, he pulled the small pack of lube and condom from his pocket. Peter noticed this and looked like he was about to make a disparaging comment before Wade bit his lip.

“Keep that smart-ass comment to yourself. There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.”

Peter grinned. “I didn’t realise you were such a boy scout.”

“Stop it, or I won’t be nice.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be nice.”

“Oh, you’re going to regret saying that.”

Peter’s pants were already undone and it didn’t take much for Wade to shove them down the rest of the way, taking a moment to slide his hands down Peter’s calves and ankles, relishing in the slight shiver he got in response.

Standing back up again, Wade stood between Peter’s legs and leaned in to kiss him, long and lingering kisses, making Peter squirm as his hands lightly touched here and there, before he grasped a handful of Peter’s thick hair and pulled his head back, exposing his slender neck. Wade kissed and bit and licked at the sensitive flesh, and Peter couldn’t help but groan at Wade’s slightly unshaven skin scraping on his own.

Wade’s hand trailed down to where Peter’s half-hard member was patiently waiting, and when he ghosted his hand over the sensitive flesh Peter gasped and his hips shifted forward, trying to get more. Wade didn’t disappoint him, grasping onto his length with his long fingers, slowly stroking until Peter was completely hard.

“Alright, Pete?”

Peter simply nodded.

Wade kept one hand on Peter while he reached for the lube with the other. He was generous with his application, because it was completely necessary and he had no intention of hurting Peter. When he stroked a line down from Peter’s balls to his entrance, the teenager jumped, not expecting it to be so cold.

Wade pressed a deliberate kiss just beneath Peter’s ear, before biting at his lobe. “Still alright?”

Peter groaned, his hand snaking around Wade’s neck. “Yeah – still good.”

“Good,” Wade replied, smirking. “Because it’s going to get better.”

While he stroked upwards on Peter’s erection, Wade smoothly slid a finger inside, and Peter’s initial reaction would have been to scurry backwards if he wasn’t gripping onto the edge of the desk, determined to do this right. His breathing was stuttered and he tried to get used to the feeling – it was strange, it was so very unlike anything he had ever felt, but it was hard to figure out exactly how it felt when Wade was still stroking him constantly.

Wade began to move the solitary finger in and out, slick from the lube, going in a little further each time, stretching Peter’s entrance enough to add another finger. Peter didn’t shift backwards this time, he actually leaned forward and began to kiss at Wade’s collarbone, groaning as his hips shifted up into Wade’s grasp and then back down onto Wade’s fingers.

When he curled them, Peter let out a surprised sound, but it wasn’t painful. It sent a hot shiver of pleasure up his spine and he felt himself shaking. “W-Wade –” he managed to say, and Wade simply nodded.

“I know, I know, I’m amazing,” he smiled, before kissing Peter, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, drawing more keening noises from his lips. Peter barely had time to think about what was happening before Wade crooked his fingers again and stroked him slowly. Peter groaned and let his forehead drop to Wade’s shoulder, his chest rattled with shaky breaths as he tried to concentrate, tried not to melt, tried to keep some coherency.

 _Jesus Christ_ , he thought, wishing he could curse out loud but not trusting his mouth to do anything but moan. Every time he let Wade take their sexual antics a step further, Peter wondered why the fuck he hadn’t let this happen earlier. It was so strange and intrusive, something Peter had never felt, but it was sensational and took him to a whole other place.

And a moment later, he felt his heartbeat stutter and his balls tighten as though he were ready to finish.“Shit – shit, Wade – I’m gonna –”

Wade paused immediately, and he said, “Right. Okay.” He shifted his hand back slightly, moving away from the place that made Peter squirm and keen desperately, and began to stretch him properly, kissing him while he stretched him properly.

“Now, Pete,” Wade said, pressing his lips to Peter’s neck, forcing him to lean further backwards, “How does that feel?”

Realising Peter was having trouble thinking with Wade’s fingers still moving inside of him, Wade paused, and Peter took a few shaky breaths before he said, “Incredible.”

Wade laughed. “You’re making me blush.”

“Wade,” Peter said, and Wade looked down to see the honesty in his brown eyes. “You are the best thing that’s happened to me.”

It took the back slightly to hear Peter say that. Wade couldn’t remember how long it had been since one of his lovers had been so sincere. “Peter Parker,” Wade said slowly, “You are the single most amazing person to have ever walked the face of this earth and if you trust me then I would be honoured to be buried inside you and fuck you to the high heavens.”

“You could just shut up and get on with it,” Peter joked, but his smile turned to a gasp as Wade thrust his fingers in again.

“Oh I’m gonna. Don’t you worry, young Mister Parker. I am exceptionally good at getting on with it.”

Pushing Peter’s shoulder until he was lying back on the desk, Wade quickly pulled on the condom, slicked his own erection with lube and leaned over his boyfriend, gently kissing his neck as he lined himself up. He was unusually quiet – he knew that usually his mouth was running at this point, every other person he slept with would agree. At no point during coitus was Wade Wilson ever silent.

But right at this moment as he slipped inside Peter, the only sound that came from his lips was a shuddering sigh, dipping his head to Peter’s shoulder and gripping the desk, trying to keep in control as he was surrounded by unbelievable warmth, Peter’s body tight and sensitive and _wonderful_ in every sense of the word.

And Peter didn’t cry out in pain or swear or even wince – he lay with his eyes half closed and lips parted as he was stretched and filled and when Wade finally came to a stop, buried fully inside of him, Peter took a shaky breath and said, “Wade?”

“Yeah?” Wade breathed, kissing his neck again.

“You – I need you to move –”

Wade grinned and nudged his hips forward a little further, rocking into Peter. The slightly choked-up moan that the younger boy made was delightful. “Like that?”

“Yes – yes, like that,” Peter stammered, and his hands had slid up to hold onto Wade’s back and shoulders, grasping to hold onto something, his body writhing anxiously, desperation setting in. He had held out for so long now.

Wade pulled out and thrust back in, still slowly, and the whine that Peter made was encouragement for him to keep going. He moved a little faster, knowing he would love to take his sweet, sweet time and pull Peter to pieces, but he could barely concentrate as it was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex and felt this good – there was always the physical sensation, but this was better because it actually meant more. When was the last time he’d had a boyfriend? Someone who knew him as Wade, and only that? When was the last time he’d fucked someone and had it mean something?  He couldn’t even remember.

As for Peter, he had lost all capacity to think at all. There was nothing but feeling, the sensation of heat and fullness and _do that again_ and Wade’s name on the tip of his tongue, Wade with every breath, Wade as his nerves jolted (like he was being hit by lightning), _Wade_ as he bit down on his hand to keep quiet.

Maybe it was more of a turn on because Peter knew he shouldn’t be doing this, that it made him feel so alive because it would surely result in one or both of them being hurt, maybe even killed if somebody had it out for Spider-Man. But when he opened his eyes to see Wade giving him a soft smile before pressing a kiss to his collarbone, he felt that even if he wasn’t a superhero and his dads weren’t superheroes and he was just a _normal_ kid, he would have wanted this anyway.

All coherent thought went flying out the window as Wade picked up the pace and changed his angle, thrusting up into Peter’s prostate. Peter’s language became even more colourful as he grasped onto the desk, eyes wide open and his lips dry from heavy breathing. Wade biting at his neck and grasping his erection drove him over the edge, and he cried out as he came, his vision blurring and turning white as his body was sent overboard.

Wade groaned loudly and made a few expletives of his own as he thrust sporadically into Peter’s sensitive body, and letting out a hoarse yell as he reached his own end, muscles tense and body still for a moment as he came. A moment later he collapsed onto Peter, letting out a huge breath and smearing the sticky white mess between their abdomens.

After a few minutes of silence, Wade murmured against Peter’s skin, “You alive?”

“Ah-huh.” Peter’s voice was still a little shaky, and he made a small, choked up (and cute, in Wade’s opinion) noise when Wade shifted, still inside of him.

Wade was looking down at him now, grinning. “Am I good or what?”

Peter took a moment to compose a reply. “Do you always finish your sex with that line?”

“Because I know I’m good, baby. I blew your mind, admit it.”

“You didn’t blow anything,” said Peter, before falling into tired giggles.

Wade kissed him lazily. “There’s time for that later.”

They cleaned up as best they could and made their way back to the dorm room. Peter felt a little sore and slightly awkward but it didn’t hurt too much, and it went away soon enough. Wade held his hand back to their dorm as well, and fixed his hair when the wind blew it out of place. Peter smiled and wondered if Wade would like him as much when he knew who he really was – but there would be time for that later. Right now, Peter just wanted to enjoy his company as much as he could.


	6. Chapter 6

_We grew up, we worked and changed our ways_   
_Just like wildfire, been burning now for days_   
_Tearing down those walls, nothing's in our way_   
_I said, nothing's in our way_

Late afternoon half-clouded sunshine drifted into Peter’s open window as he studied. He wasn’t paying much attention to the fact his entire day had escaped in the midst of mid-semester assignment writing. He had been so distracted he’d actually ripped the spine of his book when it attached itself to his hand. Being tired resulted in Peter losing grip of his abilities – it was never convenient. He had throw the book away in favour of a different one, partially because he was annoyed at himself for letting his powers get away from him and partially because he didn’t want to explain it to Wade.

He’d been dating Wade properly for a few months now. They had gone on dates and spent even more of their spare time together, and had sex a lot more these days. Most of the other guys in their dorm knew they had something going on, and some of them teased but it was all in good humour. Peter knew it could be worse, and he was grateful most of the others gave them at least a little privacy and respect.

Peter was tapping away at his keyboard when Wade came in. Peter smiled as Wade planted a kiss on his cheek before sitting down on the bed, and saying, “How long will you be?”

“The essay is three thousand words, and I am at one –”

“One word?”

“One thousand words.”

“Oh. Right.”

There was about five seconds of silence, before Wade said, “So what’s it about?”

Peter tried not to sigh. “It’s an evaluation of how microscopy-based systems characterize cell adhesion and pulmonary surfactants.”

“That sounds _fascinating_.”

“Yep.”

Peter heard Wade get up and move towards him, and he was about to spin around in his chair and tell him to give him an hour to make a dent in the essay, when he felt lips touch his neck and kiss him, and Peter felt his skin grow hot, his stomach feeling hollow.

“Wade,” Peter said, his eyes slipping closed. “I _can’t_. I have to study.”

“So we’ll play a game. You try to study while I try to distract you. I promise you it’s lots of fun, and you can get back to studying afterwards.”

“You never let me get back to studying.”

“Maybe this time I will.”

Peter knew fighting with Wade was pointless, the guy simply didn’t take no for an answer. So Peter cleared his throat and went back to typing, flicking through the pages of his notebook occasionally while Wade kissed his neck and slipped his hands beneath Peter’s shirt, running over his abdomen and up to his torso. Peter jumped when Wade pinched at his nipples.

“I really like how you’re so sensitive. It’s never-ending fun. I could touch you for hours and I’d never get bored.”

“You’re a jerk,” Peter mumbled, trying to keep his mind on microscopy-based systems and not on Wade’s large calloused hands slipping beneath the material of his sweat pants.

“I like these pants,” said Wade, kissing at the juncture of Peter’s neck and shoulder. “Such easy access, I don’t know why you don’t wear them all the time.”

“Because I’m not your toy.”

“I think you are. And I think you like it,” said Wade, and Peter gasped as his hand grasped around his semi-hard cock, gently stroking up and down.

Peter’s eyes closed again and his hands paused, hovering over the keyboard, and Wade said, “Oh yes, I think you do like it. You like it when I touch you. It doesn’t matter if you’re not in the mood, one little touch and suddenly you’re all mine. I would just love to tie you up and keep you hard for hours, bring you so close to the edge and then stop, over and over again. You’ll be begging for me to touch you then.”

Peter bit his tongue, quite sure if he opened his mouth to say anything he would probably moan, and that would just encourage Wade. Not that he needed the encouragement. But Wade’s voice was husky and low and it sent shivers across Peter’s skin and made him feel ever harder – Wade could probably just talk, he wouldn’t even have to touch him to make him hard. But Peter was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Peter was so caught up with Wade’s voice and hand inside of his sweatpants that he didn’t notice his chair had been rolled backwards and a moment later, Wade pulled Peter from the chair into his lap on the bed. Peter flailed for a moment but Wade had a secure grip around his waist.

“That’s – not fair, Wade,” Peter managed through his gasps. “I can’t reach my computer.”

“Balls to your computer,” said Wade, sucking Peter’s earlobe into his mouth.

Peter’s eyes rolled back and he groaned, tipping his head back to Wade’s shoulder.

Wade chuckled, before shifting backwards a little so he was further onto the bed. Peter relaxed against Wade, putting his hands down to hold onto the blanket as Wade removed his hand from Peter’s middle to rub at his nipple while his other hand continuously stroked at Peter’s now fully hard member.

Peter didn’t think he’d be able to take much more but then Wade’s hand was at his mouth, and Wade said lowly, “Suck,” as he touched two fingers to Peter’s lips. Peter’s eyes widened a little, but he did as he was told, his mouth enveloping the digits, coating them in wetness.

Peter knew what was coming next as Wade slipped his other hand down his pants, and he tried to stop himself from jumping when he felt the hot, wet fingers probe at his entrance. “I sure hope you’re not planning on doing any more study,” said Wade as he slowly slid one inside, and Peter groaned, the intrusion a little uncomfortable but not altogether unpleasant.

Wade went on stroking him and kissing at his neck while he fingered him, gradually opening him a little further and going a little deeper each time, until he slipped a second finger in. Peter bit his lip but didn’t say anything, because he knew that any moment –

“Ohh!”

“There it is. Knew it was around here somewhere,” Wade said as Peter arched his back, his voice breaking as he tried to control the noise that came out of his mouth, and his nerves on fire as Wade prodded at his prostate.

“Do you like that, baby?” Wade asked, hot breath washing over Peter’s skin, still stroking and pumping and kissing, transforming Peter from a clever young man to a writhing bundle of nerves and noises. “Do you like it when I have my way with you?”

Peter could barely speak. “Yes – yes, Wade –”

“I wonder what you would do if I stopped,” Wade whispered, and Peter hoped he wasn’t being serious – but a second later, his hands stopped moving, and Peter’s eyes snapped open.

“N-no, don’t – Wade –”

“I’ve got homework too, baby,” Wade said calmly, pressing a kiss to Peter’s cheek before taking his hands out of the sweatpants.

Peter spun and threw Wade down to the bed, pinning him against the mattress and he said in a tight, infuriated voice, “I swear to god, Wade Wilson, if you don’t get me off right now –”

“What? You’ll kill me?” Wade asked with a sly grin.

Peter was smarter than that. Killing wasn’t a realistic ultimatum, Wade would never go for it. “You’ll never have sex again. Not with me, anyway,” he said.

The smart grin was wiped from Wade’s face, and suddenly Peter was on his back underneath his boyfriend, who had torn the sweatpants from his slender legs and quickly thrust his fingers back inside Peter’s eager body, and then Wade’s mouth was on his member and Peter had to bite into his hand to stop from crying out.

The feeling of Wade’s rough tongue on his cock, the hot wet heat of his mouth, along with his fingers curling inside and relentlessly rubbing at Peter’s prostate – Peter was coming in seconds, his hands grasping at Wade’s hair as his hips bucked and he came, his vision blurring as Wade swallowed the hot come and gave Peter one last gentle suck before sliding off, laughing as Peter’s body convulsed.

Wade didn’t waste any time reaching over to the desk drawer and grabbing the lube, quickly shoving his shorts down and coating his own cock with slick, before he crawled back onto the bed and lined himself up with Peter’s stretched entrance and pressed inside. Peter moaned a little too loudly and Wade pressed a hand to the younger boy’s mouth.

“Not too loud now, baby,” he said, settling his hips down between the boys open legs, pressing in further until he could go no more. “Wouldn’t want the neighbours to hear you.”

Wade could hear the muffled ‘fuck you’ that came from under his palm, and he quickly took both of Peter’s hands in his own and held them down to the bed. “Well, if you insist,” he said smartly, before sharply snapping his hips forward, driving hard into Peter’s body.

Peter let out a sharp cry and his skin flushed red. He had been relying on Wade’s hand to stop his noises, and the thrust had been unexpected. He threw face to the side to bury it into the pillow as best he could, to muffle the sounds that were slipping from his lips as Wade thrust into him again, over and over – this man seemed to have never-ending stamina and sexual drive, and Peter was always certain he would break. But he was still in one piece, God only knew how.

Wade finished not long after that, slumped over Peter, panting. He raised his eyebrows and said in a slightly breathless voice, “I’ll let you get back to your studying, eh Pete?”

The glare Peter gave him resulted in little more than a chuckle, but as Wade pulled out and went to move away he gasped and his body tensed, eyes squeezed shut as a hand flew to his side.

“Wade?” Peter asked immediately, sitting up a little. The glare had been replaced with a worried frown, as he looked over his boyfriend. “What’s wrong?”

Wade smiled a moment later but it wasn’t convincing. “Nothing, babe. Just pulled a muscle fucking you too hard. You’d think I’d know better by now.”

Peter wasn’t satisfied with that but he didn’t press the matter. “Alright. Maybe you should go have a rest. Want me to get you anything?”

“Nah, get back to your studying. Three thousand words ain’t going to write itself,” Wade said, winking before giving Peter one last kiss, pulling his pants on and walking out.

 

 

When he was back in his room, Wade grabbed his cell phone and, not sure of how sound-proof the walls really were, took a walk down to the courtyard. He dialled a number he barely remembered and wasn’t sure if he was happy or annoyed when he dialled it right.

“ _Kal’s Storage Units, how can I help you_?”

“Uh – is there any way that unit X is still available?”

“ _Of course, I’ll put your call through_.”

The department line changed their tune every time he called. It was really annoying having to adjust his requests depending on the various metaphors and aliases they took on. An annoying hold-line tune was about to send Wade off the deep end when the line finally picked up.

“ _This is the manager, how can I help_?”

“My name is Wade Wilson, I’ve done business with you guys in the past. Wondering if those repairs to unit X were any good, cause my goods are getting _mouldy_ as all hell.”

“ _Ah_ ,” said the voice at the other end. “ _Just let me check to make sure the line is secure, Mr. Wilson_.” A moment or two passed before he spoke again. “ _We can speak properly now_.”

“Good, cause I was guaranteed that the reversal wouldn’t fuck me up, but I just had a pain in the spleen area which felt vaguely like cancer and if I’m not mistaken this lump on my abdomen looks _verrrrry_ familiar, Mr. Agent X,” snapped Wade.

“ _I see. Perhaps you should come in, Mr. Wilson_.”

“Don’t ‘Mr. Wilson’ me, buddy, what the _fuck_ is happening? You assured me I would be alright!”

“ _You have to understand that your case is a very unique one. We weren’t sure that the treatment would last forever_.”

“So that’s it, huh? I get a year and then it’s all back to the way it was. Cancer, healing powers, psychosis comes back, I turn back into a crazy ugly motherfucker and the world keeps spinning?”

“ _Like I said, you should come in. We should talk it over_.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“ _When can we expect you_?”

“The next few days, I suppose. Assuming I haven’t killed myself before then,” he said, ending the call.

 

When Wade told Peter he might have to go away for a few days, Peter was the right amount of concerned. There was a fine line between caring for your boyfriend and burying your nose into his business. Wade said it was a family thing, nothing major – when Peter offered to come along Wade said that his family was a bunch of loonies and as much as he’d like to introduce them, he also wanted to keep Peter in one piece.

“You understand, right?” he said, looking far more calm than a man flying out of state for a family emergency should be.

“Of course,” said Peter. “Will you call?”

“If I have service. Otherwise I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Peter couldn’t help but notice the slight hesitation when Wade moved to kiss him – as though for a second, he might have turned and walked away. But then he leaned in and pressed their lips together and said, “I – I really wish I didn’t have to go. But I know you’ll be alright.”

“It’s only a few days, Wade,” said Peter, with a grim smile. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Look after yourself. I – I’ll miss you.” For a second Peter thought he was about to say that he loved him. But that was too much to ask for.

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied, giving one more kiss. “Stay safe.”

“You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooooOOOOOOOooooooOOOOOH well then that's interesting  
> throwin a plot twist in there to mess with ya  
> will Wade return? will Peter discover his secret?   
> Will Tony and Steve ever come back into the story?  
> STAY TUNED (& thanks for reading xoxo)


	7. Chapter 7

_And I know, I've said this all before_   
_But opposites attract, we try and run away_   
_But end up running back, and all I want to do,_   
_All I want to do is lie down..._

 

He didn’t worry when Wade didn’t call. Peter was hoping for a quick text or something to let him know the flight had gone well, that everything was good, see you soon, don’t eat the crackers until I get back. The usual out-of-town thing that Peter would usually send when he went to visit his family. But Wade was different, he’d always been a bit weird, and Peter thought nothing of it.

He only began to worry when there was no word for the next week, and Peter scanned the news for any reports of plane crashes or sink holes or anything of the sort in or near Vancouver – he wasn’t actually sure where Wade had gone to but Peter remembered him saying that was where he was from. It made sense he’d go there to visit his family.

After two weeks, Peter was less concerned than he was confused. He wasn’t sure why Wade would just disappear or not call, considering they had a pretty good relationship. Peter broke into Wade’s room to see if he could check flight bookings on Wade’s computer, but that was gone. The food in the fridge was starting to go off and a fine layer of dust had settled over the television set. Peter couldn’t find anything that indicated where Wade might have gone to or what he was doing.

Finally cracking, Peter called up the university administration asking after him.

“A friend of mine called Wade Wilson, he was studying computer sciences – he left about a month ago now, said he was going to visit his family,” he said to the receptionist on the other end of the line. “I know he’s got essays due this week so I was wondering if you had an emergency contact number at all, or some idea of when he might be back?”

“ _Let me just check the records for you, Mr. Parker,_ ” she said quite calmly. A moment later, she said, “ _Oh – it looks like Mr. Wilson dropped out._ ”

“I’m sorry?”

“ _Records here say that last week he spoke with the Dean and applied to put his course on hiatus. And he put his emergency contact as 911, as a joke, I’m sure –_ ”

Peter hung up the phone.

 

 

When Wade woke up, he wasn’t feeling so good. Well, he wasn’t feeling awful – the past few weeks, his cancer had found reason to live once more, and the abscesses were painful than the last time. He nearly couldn’t walk by the time he actually got to the lab, and when the first rounds of radiation therapy and suppressants were unsuccessful, he had tried to hit the doctor but ended up coughing up blood and bile as his body began to reject the medication.

The options that remained had two long and interesting explanations with complicated words and various theories and science ideas that Wade didn’t know or care about. On the most basic level, his two choices were either to die, or receive the healing factor once more.

“It’s the only treatment that we know can stop your cancer,” the doctor had said. Wade had glared at him, scratching at a scab that had developed on his neck.

“Does it still have the old problems?”

“The what?”

“Ya know, being batshit crazy and all.”

“Oh – well, Mr. Wilson, that was a very unique reaction that you had. Not many others have –”

“So, if I were anybody else, chances might be better. But as it stands, being me and all, chances are I’ll go back to having a schizophrenic discourse with myself and revert back to being a solid, A+, seven-days-a-week nutcase.”

“I – I’m afraid so.”

Wade stood up on unsteady legs and tried his best to look intimidating. “Do you know how much medication I have been taking just to keep myself normal _now_? To have any semblance of _sanity_? I have just spent a year fixing myself up, actually making something of myself and doing the best with this piece of shit brain that I’ve been graced with, and you’re telling me that it’s all going back down the drain. Starting over – not even starting over, we’re fuckin’ pedalling _backwards_ here, doc. Did nobody think to refine the stupid fuckin’ treatment so, in the case of an emergency like this _which you were anticipating_ , we might have a better chance at salvaging any drop of normality I have left?”

The doctor stepped backwards. “You aren’t under any obligation to take the medicine. The offer stands –”

“Oh, so I’m well within my right to live like this,” Wade drawled, pointing at his body, where skin was beginning to peel away, scabs weeping clear fluids, blood dried dark where the flesh had broken from the swelling and growths beneath. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were bloodshot, his hair beginning to fall out, cuticles bleeding, ulcers forming in his mouth. “This disease ain’t tolerable, doc. I’ll turn into the Elephant Man, scare some small children, and then I’ll drop dead in a week’s time.”

“The choice is yours.”

“Very fucking generous of you. Thank you.” Wade turned and moved back to the bed. “I’ll take the stupid medicine. Send Wolverine my kind regards and tell him the next time I see him I’m going to stick dynamite up his asshole.”

The doctor said nothing to that. As he made his way out of the room, Wade called out after him, “Can I have a hot nurse come in here to give me a sponge bath and change my bandages?”

When he got no response, Wade sighed, setting back into his pillows. He thought of Peter momentarily, wondering if it was worth calling him to let him know he wasn’t coming back. He’d already dropped out of college, knowing that no matter what happened here, he wouldn’t be able to live a normal life again. Peter probably deserved some explanation. Even a postcard, something that said, _Hi, don’t try to find me, I’m probably dead or dismembered by now_.

But the few times Wade had turned on his phone, looked through all the missed calls and worried messages, he couldn’t bring himself to reply. He was a coward but it was easier to forget and run away than it was to explain. He turned the phone over, taking a pen to nudge the sim-card out before throwing it out the window, putting the phone back in the drawer. Peter didn’t deserve to be dragged down by some mutant freak – he was just a regular kid. He deserved a regular life.

 

 

Peter finally broke down and cried, one week after he realised Wade wasn’t coming back. He’d spent the week angry and distant, not talking to anyone, not doing his homework, not calling his parents. It wasn’t a fun time, and when he was walking back to his room one night after a long trying day of lectures and classes, he kicked Wade’s door, not remembering his strength, and broke it off the hinges. He stared at it a moment before going to his own room, and calling security to report a break in next door, knowing that they’d take care of it.

After that, he sat on his bed and cried. He was tired of waiting for Wade to call back when it was clear he wouldn’t. Not a word, not a whisper, nothing. He knew that it wasn’t going to last forever – he’d told Wade himself that there was a chance they’d have to say goodbye some way down the road. But Peter was expecting him to be the one saying goodbye, not Wade. He wasn’t prepared to be alone just yet. He wasn’t ready for it. He hadn’t expected it. It wasn’t like his heart was broken, it was more like it had been violently woken up and the illusion was over.

Of course he wasn’t going to ever be normal. There was no normal life for someone like him, no way he could ever be with someone as wonderful and ordinary as Wade.

 

 

**_Wakey wakey!_ **

The bright lights of the hospital room seemed all that much brighter now. His eyes were stuck together, and he pried them open. He felt – okay. His muscles weren’t sore and his lungs were working alright, his chest didn’t hurt with each heartbeat. Holding up one hand, Wade glanced at the damage – the swelling was going down. Wasn’t gone altogether and the scabs were still there, but they were healing as fast as they came.

_I don’t suppose you have any tacos lying around here._

Wade blinked. “Nah, sorry. That’ll be the first stop, though. Haven’t heard you guys for a while.”

**_Ran outta juice for a bit._ **

_Rather unfortunate._

**_Back in the game now though, bitches!_ **

Wade sat up, taking the drip from his arm and oxygen mask from his face.

_Might need a real mask at some stage._

“I’ve got spares in my old apartment.” Groaning, Wade stretched, and he felt good. “Now, to business,” he said, standing up.

**_Where’s that doctor at, anyway?_ **

“My thoughts exactly,” Wade muttered. “All I need now is a scalpel. Time for me to repay him some favours…”


	8. Chapter 8

_And crash, fall down_  
 _I'll wrap my arms around you now_  
 _Just crash, it's our time now_  
 _To make this work, second time around_

 

The end of his first year came around faster than Peter had anticipated. The last few months were full of studying and exams and there wasn’t really much time for anything else. He didn’t realise how tired he was until he was packing his things back into his bags, getting ready to fly back home again. He slept most of the flight, curled up in his seat with a blanket over him, glasses askew and hair a mess.

This time, Steve was at work and Tony was at a conference so he took a taxi home. Tony offered to send a chauffeur but Peter didn’t like them much. He liked the cabs. They reminded him of being home. The streets of New York were filthy and he could almost see the smoke rising, and he allowed himself a small smile as he realised that he was where he belonged. He stared up at the skyscrapers above and wondered if he’d get in trouble for going on a late-night swing around the city. Tony could come, too. Blow off some steam, as it were. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d used his web.

When Steve and Tony arrived home, Peter was already asleep on the couch. Steve moved him to his bedroom and smiled when Peter mumbled something incoherent.

 

Breakfast the next morning was surprisingly good. Steve made bacon and eggs for all of them and even remembered to buy ketchup – something they only kept around when Peter was home. He loved ketchup with toast, he wasn’t sure why.

They talked about all the things they had going on – Tony having to fly out to Russia to apprehend some illegal weapons, Steve going with SHIELD to a sea-cliff off the coast of Japan to investigate an abandoned submarine deep underwater.

“Me, I’ve just been studying,” said Peter. “You guys get all the fun. There isn’t any crime worth fighting in a university town. Campus security and the cops got it covered.”

“You’re here for a few weeks, I’m sure there’s somebody you can apprehend,” said Steve brightly.

“Maybe you’ll be the one to catch Deadpool,” Tony added.

“Deadpool?” Peter repeated, frowning. “Haven’t heard of him.”

Peter felt a heavy hand pat him on the head as Steve spoke, “Slightly before your time, Spidey.”

“Yeah, if it was anywhere near your time,” Peter joked. “Seriously, though. Who is he?”

“He’s a mercenary, had something to do with the X-Men. But he does an awful lot of contract killing and Fury wants him taken out. Causes too much trouble for what he’s worth.”

“What is he worth?”

“He’s really good at killing. He’s – helped out before. He dropped off the map for a while, but he’s been seen about town again. Leaving a trail of dead people and bodily fluids behind him,” Tony added.

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll scope him out.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve, at the same time as Tony said, “Sure, buddy.”

The look they gave each other was golden and Peter stood, grinning as he said, “I’ll leave you two to your domestic. Thanks for breakfast!”

 

 

Peter didn’t put the suit on that night. He wanted to, but he couldn’t justify it. He wanted to see the city, but he wasn’t exactly going out to do any good. He was just reacquainting himself with New York. So he put on a jacket and went for a walk.

It was a pretty long walk. All the way down Broadway to Times Square, wandering around to find a deli and grab a sandwich. He cheated a bit by catching a bus up to Central Park, and was making his way back home when he heard something strange.

“Ruuuuule Britannia, marmalade and jam _…_ ”

The voice was faint and the singing was murmured, absent-minded. Peter took a few steps back and peered down the alley he had just walked past to see a figure in the shadows, moving around beside the garbage cans.

“Five Chinese crackers up yer asshole, bang bang bang bang BANG!”

Peter blinked at the strange lyrics. He wasn’t British, but he was almost sure the song didn’t go like that. Taking a step closer, he could see the person fumbling with something on the ground – and then there was a spark, and they had lit a match. By the flickering light, Peter could see that the object on the ground was a small pyramid of dynamite sticks.

“Hey!” he shouted, “What do you think you’re doing?”

The figure stood up, snuffing out the match as he did so. “Are you even old enough to be out this late, buddy? When’s your curfew? I’m calling your father!”

“I’d like to see you try,” said Peter, knowing he should move on but walking further down the alley all the same.

As he moved closer, he could see the man was wearing a mask. It looked – strangely familiar. Something he might have seen in a newspaper or website –

“Oh shit,” said Peter. “You’re Deadpool.”

“Hey, so I _am_ still famous!” said the man brightly. His red-and-black suit clashed with the big brown trench coat he was wearing. “Or infamous. Whatever. You know any good hot dog stands round here? Or falafels, I’m not fussy.”

“Were you about to blow something up?” Peter asked, staring at the building they were beside, trying to figure out what it was and what was worth blowing a hole in the wall to get.

“Well, yeah. Dynamite has a limited range of household purposes.”

Peter frowned. The voice sounded strange.

As he stepped closer, so did Deadpool. “Do you look familiar or what, kid?” he said out loud, before he paused. “Well, shit.”

“What?”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand,” said Deadpool, not talking to Peter anymore. Was he talking to himself? Peter blinked, not quite knowing what to do. “No, you were _sleeping_ , remember? You don’t know him – no, he doesn’t know –”

“Alright, buddy,” said Peter calmly. “Have fun.” He began to move away, taking his phone from his pocket with every intention of calling Tony and having him fly over pronto to help take care of this guy.

But Deadpool saw his hand go to his pocket, and in a second he had leapt forward, latched onto Peter’s wrist and slammed it against the wall. Peter yelped in pain before he shoved back, twisting around and in turn twisting Deadpool’s arm, forcing him to face away. Peter expected that to keep him still, but with a sickening _pop_ , the man dislocated his shoulder and dislodged himself from Peter’s grip, turning back to grab Peter’s neck and hold him against the wall.

Peter clawed at the arm and tried to push Deadpool away, but his arms weren’t quite as long or strong as the other’s. He was at a distinct disadvantage without his webs, though he could certainly make away up the wall if he had to. He should have already thought of something to get him out of this mess.

He was struggling for breath, lashing out with a kick which earned him a kick back.

“Cut that out, kid,” said Deadpool, pressing his elbow against the wall, shoving hard to pop his shoulder back in. Gross. “Now, you’re gonna forget this happened, alright? No calling up the tip line or any of that. I don’t want to have to deal with any more fucking Avengers before the week is out.”

“Avengers?” Peter gasped. “What?”

He didn’t get a response, but a moment later he felt Deadpool press his body up against Peter’s own, holding him against the wall with his chest and hips. “Fuck me,” he breathed. “Do you feel good or what?”

“Stop, you pervert,” Peter spat. He raised his hands up and placed them flat against the wall above his head, sticking them there. Deadpool glanced up but didn’t have time to ask what he was doing, before the teenager had pulled them both off the ground. He was choked for a moment by the mercenary’s hand still on his throat, before he bent his knees and kicked hard into Deadpool’s chest, sending him straight back to the ground.

He only had a few seconds to run out of the alley and get his phone out, calling Jarvis. “Jarvis?”

“ _Is something wrong, Peter_?” asked Jarvis calmly. “ _Should I inform your parents_?”

“Let them know where I am, I ran into Deadpool,” Peter said, short of breath as he ran. “Tell them I’m not much use right now – haven’t got my gear with me.”

“ _Will do. Stay safe, Peter._ ”

“Thanks buddy.” He hung up and made his way down the street, trying to hail a cab – it was only when his Dad’s chauffer pulled up did Peter realise that they had probably tracked him with the GPS.

Jumping into the back of the limo before it had even stopped, they had taken off again.

Happy was driving, which was always a dangerous operation. “Hey kid,” he said. “Your gear’s in the bag.”

“Thanks Happy, you’re a legend,” said Peter, pressing the button to pull the privacy screen up. Happy had known for a while now that Peter was Spider-Man –along with Steve, Tony and Gwen, that made four people all up who knew who he was. Keeping his identity a secret while being a high-profile person, the son of two other superheroes, was no easy gig. Keeping it a secret from his dads’ bodyguard, chauffer and head of security was altogether too difficult, and they knew they could trust Happy.

Within a few minutes, Peter had his suit on and his webs ready to go. Putting the security screen back down, he said, “Where are they now, do we know?”

Jarvis responded to that question from the car’s computer system. “Steve’s whereabouts are unknown at this stage, but it is possible he forgot to recharge his locator. Tony is currently scoping out the area near Central Park for any sign of Deadpool.”

“Sweet. Land me somewhere near Central Park then, Happy –”

“ _I’d rather you keep your nose out of this one, whiz kid,_ ” Tony’s voice sounded over the radio.

Peter rolled his eyes. “C’mon Dad.”

“ _Usually I don’t care because you can handle yourself but this guy is both extremely dangerous and certifiably mental,_ ” said Tony. “ _I don’t want you getting yourself hurt._ ”

“What is it that you say all the time? If I’m old enough to enlist in the army, I’m old enough to make my own decisions?”

“ _Usually I’m making fun of your father when I say that –_ ”

“Dad, just let me help out. If something happens, it’s on me, not you. And besides, you know I’m good. I can get myself to higher ground.”

Tony sighed but followed with a response. “ _Fine. Don’t tell Steve I gave you the green light. It was orange at best_.”

By this stage, they had pulled up near Central Park, and Peter had run out of the limo. “Thanks Happy!” he shouted as he shot his web and swung himself up to a nearby lamp-post. A few passers-by pointed and made excited noises, but he made ‘shoo’ motions with his hands. “A criminal’s in the area, get a move on,” he yelled, and most of them got the general idea. One person stayed to take a quick photo and Peter sighed. Pedestrians were so… pedestrian.

Pushing his finger into his ear to get his comm-device snug, Peter said, “Where you at, Stark?”

They used a certain vocabulary when out in the field – having the two older agents shouting Peter’s real name would do no good for his identity being a secret. So they called him ‘Spidey’ or ‘Kid’ or whatever they could come up with, really. Peter avoided naming them as parents. It kept it all very professional.

“ _North-east, looping back as we speak. No sign of the perpetrator_.”

“I’m not sure he’s perpetrated anything yet,” Peter replied. “Cap, you in?”

“ _Who said you could be here_?” Steve’s voice replied.

“Turn your GPS on, old man.” Peter smiled, and glanced back to check Tony’s position. “What’s the plan?”

“ _Stark can take the northern half_ ,” said Steve. “ _You take south-east and scope the boundary, see if there’s any sign of him. I’ll do the same for the western quarter_.”

“I do love me some park patrol,” mumbled Peter, before shooting his web and taking off to haunt the lower corner of the park. They were keeping him as far from Deadpool’s final location – he’d last been seen north-west, so of course they sent him south-east. Still, he was here, he was helping. That was what he wanted to do.

“ _Nobody’s seen you for a while, kid_ ,” said Tony casually. “ _The newspapers will be colourful tomorrow_.”

“Yeah, thought I’d pop back into town a few weeks, make sure you guys haven’t ruined it.”

“ _That’s cheeky, we take good care of our stuff_.”

“Who said New York was yours?” Peter laughed, pausing atop another light post to take a look around.

Deadpool couldn’t have gotten far, he thought, and almost on cue he saw that same brown trench coat, paired with a most suspicious-looking fedora. The man was walking quickly through the park, keeping his head down. He must have started back as soon as Peter had left him in the alley.

Peter leapt from tree to tree through the park, following him until they were in a mostly secluded area. He jumped to the ground, and when Deadpool turned he already had a gun pointed straight at Peter.

“Knew you were following me,” said Deadpool, clearly pleased with himself. “Still got it, still got it.”

Peter could hear Tony and Steve both talking to him, asking him to report his situation, to fall back, but Peter didn’t want to give Deadpool a chance to get away. His webs shot out and snatched the gun from the mercenary’s hand.

“Now I got it,” he said, tipping his head to the side as he pulled it apart and threw it on the grass.

Deadpool’s tone changed. “You cheeky piece of shit. I shoulda known it was you, I _knew_ something was up with you all along.”

Peter frowned. “You don’t know me.”

To Peter’s surprise, the mercenary giggled. “I know that voice. Is that you, Peter?”

There was a moment of silence before Deadpool was thrown backwards by the force of the webs being thrown at him, and he collided with a tree. Peter wrapped him twice for good measure before standing in front of him, and said, “How do you know my name?”

“Because I’m not a fuckin’ numpty, that’s why,” the merc growled. But Peter could sense there was less confidence now he was at a distinct disadvantage.

Peter stepped forward, about to tear the mask from Deadpool’s face, but in a split second, so fast Peter couldn’t even remember it happening all that clearly, the mercenary had torn an arm free from the bindings – that took _serious_ strength – and Peter felt something push against him, hold him still.

Looking down, he saw a knife buried in the right side of his lower stomach, thick blood blackening the material of his suit. He took a sharp breath, swallowing the lump in his throat. He’d never been stabbed before. Not in any vital organs. He’d had a few nicks here and there, but nothing like this. He could barely feel anything – all he felt was a heavy object pressing inside of him, bothering his insides. His heart was racing and eyes were spinning.

He was about to fall over when Deadpool’s other hand found its way to his shoulder and held him steady, the hand around the knife pulling it out quickly. Peter gasped – yes, that was pain. He could feel it now, on the skin – the adrenaline was doing its best, but he could feel his skin tearing away.

The knife fell to the ground and a moment later, the mercenary’s large hand was pressing against the wound, as though he were trying to stop the bleeding. “Sorry, Peter,” said Deadpool quietly, and pressed their foreheads together. “Spur of the moment thing, ya know.”

Peter tried to speak but all he managed was a pathetic, “No –”

“Trust me, pretty boy. Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you.”

Peter wanted to reply but he was choking on air, on words, on pain. It seemed all a blur after that – somebody was pulling him away from Deadpool, lying him on the floor. He could feel his pulse at the wound, beating like a second heart, and he began to fade out – he saw Steve’s face hovering above his, checking his pulse, and loud noises – sirens, shouting, Tony – and then it all sort of faded away, slow and spinning...


	9. Chapter 9

_Just crash, fall down…_

When he found himself drifting back, it was a slow and tedious process. First he was conscious of the darkness beneath his eyelids as they flickered, specks of dim, imaginary light floating back and forth across his mind. Then he was aware of the dry crust sealing them together – they were sticky, like he’d studied late into the night and slept in past lunchtime. His tongue was dry and he felt the muscles on his left arm twitch.

When Peter finally opened his eyes, it was brighter than beneath them. The room was bright white and clean-cut, everything sanitised and shiny. He was in a hospital. What hospital? Where was he? What had happened? Where were his dads?

He began to move and felt his muscles flare up in protest. He groaned and fell back to the mattress, and a moment later a doctor had rushed in, the door opening automatically with a quiet  _whoosh_.

Automatic doors. Either this was some sort of weird Stark Industries version of a private hospital, or they were at SHIELD headquarters. Doors that go  _whoosh_  is such a SHIELD thing.

It was all starting to come back to him. Deadpool’s mask flashed in his mind and he blinked. He’d completely forgotten about the mercenary for a few minutes there.

“Where am I?” he asked immediately, and the doctor gave a gentle smile.

“SHIELD HQ,” she replied. “Private medical bay. Reserved for secret identities.”

Peter let out a small laugh but it hurt and he wheezed instead. “Thanks,” he said, grimacing.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I’ll say,” she said. “You went through major surgery. The blade tore a part of your small intestine and came pretty close to a major artery. But it was nothing we couldn’t fix.”

“I’m extremely grateful for that,” said Peter. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Are you feeling well enough to see your family?”

“Are they here?”

“They haven’t left the whole time.”

“Typical,” Peter sighed comically. “Send them in.”

The doctor smiled and said she’d check up on him later. She left with another  _whoosh_  and the door didn’t even get a chance to whoosh closed again before Steve and Tony had barged in.

“Hey kid,” said Tony, taking his son’s hand. Steve leaned down and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead, and Peter smiled.

“Stop looking so sad, you big babies,” Peter said. “How are you?”

“We’ve had better days,” said Steve, but he smiled. “It’s good to see you’re okay.”

“Hey, you know I can handle myself.”

“Hardly,” said Tony. “The guy gutted you, Pete. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Peter frowned, thinking about it. If Deadpool had wanted to kill him, he’d be dead. He was a mercenary, he was good at killing. It didn’t really make sense. Peter tried to remember what Deadpool had said to him after he’d stabbed him – but his memory was all pretty messy.

“Is he here?”

“He’s in the facility. They’ve got him in solitary confinement,” said Steve.

“I think I want to talk to him.”

Both Steve and Tony said “No” automatically, but Peter had some good arguments. “He knows my name – I  _have to_  know who he is. I have to talk to him – if you don’t let me talk to him, I’ll have serious PTSD later on. Nightmares. I’ll wet the bed –”

After five minutes of heated discussion, they caved. Yes, he could see the mercenary, but only after he’d gotten himself healed up. At least three days in the hospital bed, lots of medicine and chocolate pudding.

They shook on that and Peter went to sleep not long after.

 

Fury said that nobody was going to talk to Deadpool but him for the first week, so Peter could talk with him on Saturday. Right now, he could look at him through the interrogation-room glass and see if he recognised him. That was as much as Fury would give him.

So Peter took it. It was the best he was going to get for a while.

When the nurse rolled him to the window in his wheelchair, he thanked her and she said she would wait outside. Peter had to stand up to see properly, but it wasn’t too difficult to do. His legs were fine.

He’d never seen this two-way mirror thing before. He didn’t know what it was called, being able to see someone and not have them see you. It was disturbing. But Deadpool had seen him, or knew who he was, and Peter didn’t know Deadpool. This was just a way of getting even.

Peter didn’t know what he was expecting. The man was sleeping, head on his arms folded on the table, and he couldn’t see his face. He waited for ten minutes, watching the swell of his chest as he breathed. He was big – broad and muscular, but not overly. He was bald and his skin was damaged – like he had some sort of disease. Skin was peeling off from various craters and scabs, scar tissue rippling down his neck and arms.

For a moment, Peter felt sorry for him. No wonder he wanted to kill people. Having to deal with such an awful condition was probably enough to drive anyone mad.

And then the sleeping mercenary turned himself over, and Peter blinked. For a moment, it looked like – no, it couldn’t be. Stepping closer to the glass, as though it would make things clearer, Peter squinted and nudged his glasses further up his nose.

His face was scarred, his left eyebrow cut in half with a white line, the same line which pinched the skin on his eyelid. His lips were dry and cracked, the skin of his cheeks pulled tight from skin pulling itself together again. He was a mess.

He looked so familiar. Peter thought that it was his imagination, some messed up part of his psyche wishing that it was Wade, just so he could see him again. Like some desperate part of him missed the other so much it would see Wade’s face in anybody’s, even a messed up murderer who had stabbed him.

And then, the man woke up, eyes blinking open, and Peter felt his heart stop.

He’d spent enough time looking into those eyes to know whose they were.

Peter stepped back and stumbled back into the wheelchair. He could hardly breathe. He felt like he was about to have a panic attack – something he hadn’t had since he was fourteen. His throat was tight, chest hurting, head fogged up – he took a deep shuddering breath and called the nurse back in, saying he had to leave. She could see his distress, and took him away swiftly to his room. The silence of the hallway and the sound of the wheels rolling on linoleum seemed to calm him, and he brought himself back from the edge of the panic.

When she asked if he wanted anything, he shook his head and said he was going to sleep. And he did sleep. And he dreamed of Wade.

 

 

“I don’t think sending you in alone is the best idea, Peter,” said Fury, and Peter flinched at hearing the SHIELD agent say his name. Just another person to add to the list of ‘people who know it’s me in the spandex’. Fury already probably knew but Peter didn’t like being all chummy with him. If chummy was even the right word…

He’d been so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t realise that Fury had asked a question. “Uh, sorry. What –?”

Fury looked like he was clenching his teeth. “I said, do you want us to have him restrained when you speak with him?”

“No,” said Peter, shaking his head. “No, he won’t hurt me. And I don’t need to have anyone else in there with me. I’ll be okay.”

“Peter, this man tried to kill you –”

“C’mon Fury. The guy’s a professional killer. If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead.”

The look in Fury’s eyes told Peter he already knew that. If Deadpool wanted to kill, he killed. He obviously didn’t want to kill Peter. Giving him a serious injury was a part of a bigger game, they just didn’t know what.

“In any case,” said Fury slowly, “He is a dangerous man.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Because I – I know him.”

Leaning forward, Fury said in the same deliberately slow voice, “This isn’t your first encounter with him?”

“No, I’ve met him before. His name is Wade.”

“I know that. I want to know how  _you_ know that.”

“He was at my college. We stayed in the same dorm. I’ve known him for almost a year – well, he took off a few months back, I thought he was – I don’t know what I thought. But now it all makes sense.”

Fury frowned. “Peter, the man you knew at school is not the man in that room. Wade Wilson might be a friendly enough human, but in this state of mind he is unstable. His body is constantly decaying and healing. He is not a man anymore.”

“I know – I know that,” said Peter, though he wasn’t sure that he did. “I just – I want to see if there’s a part of him still the same. And I think that sending me in with a bunch of goonies isn’t going to make Wade resurface. It’ll just make things worse. He knows who I am, he trusts me.”

Fury was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Do your parents know about your friendship with Wade?”

“No,” said Peter quietly. “If everything goes alright tomorrow, I’ll tell them.”

“If everything goes alright?” said Fury. “You mean if you make it out alive.”

“I mean, if he is alright and if I can get through to him, I want you to let me take care of Wade. I know you’re going to throw him in some unreachable, underground, secret prison, because you can’t kill him. I want to be given the chance to teach him how to work with us. He’s valuable – you know he is. Throwing someone like Wade away is a mistake, sir, and I – I want to have a chance to get him on our side.”

“You’re actually asking me to let him go,” said Fury.

Peter gave him a blank look. “You can’t keep him holed up forever. He will escape and when he does, he won’t want anything to do with you, or me, or any of your allies. He will go to the person with the most money or the most artillery and he will go straight back to being a nuisance. I can change that. I can get him on our side.”

Fury was quiet for a very long time and Peter began to fidget. He knew this was a sketchy proposal, that it probably wouldn’t have worked – but his arguments were solid. He knew how to get Wade on their side. He wasn’t going to tell Fury it was with the lure of a relationship – that wasn’t something he was quite ready to disclose just yet.

Finally, the director spoke. “Usually these decisions are made with a big round table of head honchos and a platter of cookies.”

“I can bring you cookies.”

Fury stood up. “Peter, if you can convince Deadpool to side with us, I won’t eat another cookie again.”

“You’re going to regret saying that,” said Peter with a grin. “Thanks, director. Sir. I’ll, uh – see you.”

Peter rolled himself out of the office feeling very pleased with himself. The nurse outside took him back to his room and he waited patiently for the morning to arrive.

 

He took his time with breakfast, having another coffee afterwards to stall for another half hour. He was anxious to speak with him but he didn’t want to make it seem desperate. He wanted to do it right.

Tony and Steve wanted to come with him but he shook his head. He wouldn’t even let them listen – he didn’t want anybody watching. Fury didn’t like that idea at all, but Peter was the one calling the shots now. Wade was moved to another room without an interrogation window, with security guards posted outside. Peter stood up and walked into the room, not wanting to go in his wheelchair. Like he needed reminding of his injury.

Wade was leaning back in the chair when Peter entered, his hands behind his head, humming a tune. He didn’t seem to register that Peter was in the room until the other had taken a few steps into the room – but he knew Peter was there. Peter could see the slight shift in his eyes, to get in his peripherals. He saw the slight shift of muscle as he took a breath.

Wade was nervous too, and no amount of acting would convince Peter otherwise.

“Hey kid,” said Wade. His face was messed up but it wasn’t unrecognisable. When he split a grin, it made the white scars ripple and contort. “Been a while.”

Peter wasn’t sure what he was going to say. All this time thinking about this meeting, and he hadn’t even thought of anything to say. “Hi,” he managed, feeling immediately stupid.

“What, no tears? This is like one of those rom-com reunions. I thought we had something special, Petey.”

Peter laughed dryly. “You don’t get rom-com when you’re an asshole.”

“Is this because I stabbed you?”

“This is because you left.”

“Oh, so this is a domestic fight now? Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Where were you?” Peter asked. He’d spent a few days being angry and upset, but now he was just tired. “I had to call the adminto find out you’d quit college.”

“C’mon, Pete, how was I supposed to tell you about this?” Wade replied. “ _Hey there lover, afraid I can’t stay, gotta rush off and get my cancer treatment which will send me spiralling into insanity, before I reluctantly return to my former career as a contract killer._  Not exactly the conversation most couples would want to have.”

As Peter tried to make sense of all this, Wade went on. “But hey, you being Spider-Man is pretty cool. Always thought you were stronger than you looked. You’re just as bad as me for not telling, too.”

“I don’t go around just telling people I’m a vigilante, Wade.”

“And I don’t tell people I’m a lunatic mercenary, either,” Wade replied. “Though I do now. That’s how you get business, ya know. Telling people you’re in the business. Good at killing. I like killing. How about that new joint down on 42nd, though, they’re serving those pizza cones.  _Sooooo_  good. Wanna get one? Maybe we can hang out. I’ll show you how my healing factor works, chop my head off, stick it back on, it’s all good fun.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Peter asked, in disbelief.

“Like I said, side effects.”

“You weren’t crazy before.”

“I was taking a  _lot_  of medication when we were at college. Plus the healing factor kinda makes it a lot worse. I get these voices. They’re great to hang out with.”

Peter paused. He didn’t know how to feel. His runaway boyfriend had reappeared, a shadow of his former self, a scarred and schizophrenic man with katanas who was paid to kill.

“We know each other, Pete. I’m still Wade. Kinda. Some of me is. I don’t look the same, and I’m kinda – a worse version of myself than I was before. But now I know your dark secret and you know mine, we can totally hang out again!”

“I can’t believe you’re even suggesting we will ever have anything to do with each other again. You ran away you – you little  _bitch_! You could have at least told me you weren’t coming back.”

“It wasn’t like it was easy for me, Peter,” Wade snapped, suddenly serious, sitting forward. “It’s not like I just stopped caring. It hurt as much for me to leave. I didn’t know you were anything but ordinary, and I didn’t want to force you to have to see me like this, or deal with any of this.”

There was a moment of silence before Wade muttered, “Shut up.”

“What?”

“No, not you. The voices.”

“What – what are they saying?”

“One thinks you’re super cute and wants to know if you’d be interested in having sex and/or Mexican food at some state in the near future. The other one has taken extreme offense at you calling us a little bitch.”

Peter wasn’t expecting to smile. He wasn’t expecting to find it funny, in this whirlwind of emotion and confusion. But he did, and Wade smiled back.

“You should have told me,” said Peter, stepping closer. He knew that getting any closer to Wade was not safe – the man was dangerous. But Peter didn’t feel threatened.

He didn’t have time to say anything else because a moment later Wade had thrown himself at Peter, kissing him with a furious and impatient energy Peter hadn’t seen in him before. He was unsteady but Wade was holding him up, arms wrapped tight around him, biting at Peter’s lower lip and groaning. “Jesus Christ, have I missed you,” he said, burying his face into Peter’s neck.

Peter tried not to go rigid. He was not sure how safe he should feel with Wade right now – the man was a self-proclaimed nutjob. But at the moment, he seemed fairly tame.

“I missed you too,” said Peter calmly, relaxing into Wade’s embrace.

“Can you forgive me for being an asshole?”

Peter sighed. “Despite your annoying, stupid, infuriating behaviour, it is actually really,  _really_  difficult to stay angry at you. I’ve never been great at holding grudges, anyway. And you have really good reasons for why you did what you did.”

“You, uh – don’t mind the ugly face thing?”

“You don’t look that different. You’re just a bit more cut up. And the shaved head suits you.”

“To be honest, most of it fell out of its own accord, but if you like it that’s great! Cause I’m not gonna grow any more for a while, and by a while I mean ever.”

Peter smiled gently, and decided now was as good a time as any to breach the topic that had been sitting tightly in his chest for the past ten minutes or so. “I – I’ve made a bit of a deal with Fury.”

“Oh?”

“He wants you to get put away. But – I think the reason you stabbed me, once you knew it was  _me_ , was part of your plan.”

“And what plan might that be?” Wade asked, but he was smirking. He knew.

Peter entertained him. “Your plan was to get me involved in this whole investigation so that I could find a way to get you out of it.”

“You always were a clever boy, Pete,” said Wade, and Peter felt his stomach flip at the praise, the same way it used to whenever Wade called him handsome or clever or sexy.

Peter took a deep breath. “But I’m not going to let you leave unless I know you’ll stay.”

“Stay?”

“With me. And we go by my rules. Which means no killing. We take down bad guys. We don’t do it for money.”

Wade frowned, trying to comprehend all that. “But – I – that’s all I’m good at, Pete.”

“You’re good at other things. I know you are. And I think we’ll make an amazing team. I’m not going to make you sign a contract or anything, I know they mean nothing to you – but I want to know that if we do this, walk out of here together, I’m not going to have to hunt you down later on. We’re going to stick together, and you’re going to learn to do what I do. The pay’s not all bad,” he said, grinning.

“What do you mean, the pay’s not all bad?!” Wade exclaimed. “Vigilantes don’t get paid shit, even if they are in cahoots with SHIELD!”

“Uh, yeah. My parents are rich. It’s okay.”

“Oh, you come from money? Why didn’t you mention that earlier?” asked Wade cheekily, giving Peter another quick kiss. Peter didn’t flinch this time – he even kissed back.

“D’you think you can stick with me, Wade?” asked Peter quietly. “I’m not going to give you another chance. This is the only ticket you’re going to get.”

“All my tickets are on you, baby,” said Wade.

Peter couldn’t help but laugh in his relief.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeeeeeeeeEEEEEK  
> SEE END FOR IMPORTANT INFORMATION REGARDING SPIDEYPOOL

_Just crash, fall down  
Make this work, second time around_

 

When Peter woke up and the bed next to him was empty, he felt himself panic. He vaguely remembered the first time he woke up in bed next panicking, but that was with someone beside him, with their arm around him, warming his body with their own, fingers twitching gently in a dream-state against his stomach. He had leapt away from that closeness, and now he was clawing at the sheets as though Wade was there, in arm’s reach, hiding. Playing one of his games.

The sheets weren’t even warm. He’d been gone a long time. Peter felt his heart sink and he sighed, running his hands over his face and through his hair, tugging at the knots. For all the energy he had put into this, he didn’t expect Wade to be gone. Or at least, Peter expected he would have been gone sooner. The fact he had stayed for longer than a month had given Peter a false sense of security, and now he was paying the price.

He didn’t know whether to cry or go back to sleep. He didn’t do either, he couldn’t sleep now and he didn’t have the energy to cry. What would he tell his dads? After all that time he had spent convincing them this would be okay, that Wade would be alright, they could do this. Tony had told him that Wade wasn’t his responsibility, and Peter had nodded, he knew that. He wasn’t doing this out of responsibility, he was doing this because he cared for him. Genuinely cared.

But Peter knew that Wade’s idea of genuine care was running away. He’d done it before.

Peter sat down at the kitchen bench with a coffee, and turned the television on to watch the morning news in case there were any reports of explosions or theft or murder or _anything_ that might suggest Wade had gone dark side. But there were none. It was as mediocre a morning that New York had ever seen.

He was about to get dressed and go tell someone Wade was missing when the door opened. Peter immediately leapt to his feet and down the hall, expecting police with a dead body or a dismembered arm – but Wade stood there, all in one piece, a brown paper bag full of groceries in one hand and his keys in the other.

“Hey gorgeous,” said Wade, grinning. “I was just downstairs. The lady at the convenience store remembered who I was! She says it’s not because I have a funny face, but because I’m funny and high spirited. That was a quote, word for word. She likes me. I wanted omelettes but we were out of eggs. Do you like tomatoes in yours?”

“I don’t like tomatoes,” said Peter instantly, before he stepped forward and embraced Wade with tired arms, his body trembling slightly as he pressed his face into Wade’s neck. “Don’t run off like that without telling me where you’re going.”

“Sorry,” said Wade. “You didn’t look like you were waking up. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast.”

“Yeah, you surprised me alright,” Peter said, sighing. He felt ashamed of himself, for losing faith in Wade. He couldn’t afford to jump to conclusions like that. If he didn’t believe in Wade, there was no way the man would believe in himself. He needed Peter to get through this, and Peter was only realising now that he needed Wade just the same. He wasn’t the bigger man in this relationship anymore. They were equals, and Peter needed to trust him.

If Wade noticed Peter’s behaviour he didn’t say anything. “C’mon, let’s have some breakfast,” he said, taking Peter’s hand and skipping down the hall to the kitchen. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my omelettes.”

Peter's face hurt from the smile splitting his face and Wade teased him for the happy look on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou SO MUCH to everyone who has read this, who commented (because I can't lie, the comments kept me going! I remember each paragraph was inspired when I checked my inbox and saw somebody saying they wanted more! And thAT INSPIRES ME!) and I am sending kisses to every single person who kudos'd. You're adorable. Give yourself a hug from me.
> 
> I'm sorry I couldn't give you more straight away! You have no idea how badly I want them to sex. But, basically, I have some heavy assignments due in the next few weeks and I couldn't fit all the ideas I wanted to into this story. So I'm going to save them all up, write them into a sexy little notepad and come back with more stories about Peter and Wade living together. Whether they will be one-shots or another longer story, I don't know yet, but I am sehr aufgeregt! And that's pretty much the extent of my German so auf wiedersehen mein pretties!  
> SEHR GUT JA <3 YOU DA BEST


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